


Terrible at Swimming

by BombshellBlondie



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Identity Issues, Post-Calamity Ganon, Post-Canon, Post-Game, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, Teen Angst, regular angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombshellBlondie/pseuds/BombshellBlondie
Summary: Calamity Ganon was defeated. Hyrule, or what was left of it at least, was saved. But rather than this being the end of their troubles, Link and Zelda soon find that this is only the beginning.Without the goal of defeating Ganon to distract himself with, Link is forced to face the identity crisis that has been looming over him since the day he awoke from his 100-year slumber. Princess Zelda takes on the daunting task of rebuilding her kingdom from the ashes, and wonders whether this new world has any need for her at all. Through it all, they both struggle with their feelings for each other, and the strings of fate that tie them together.Post-game sloooooooooooow burn Zelink with a dash of angst. Maybe more than a dash. Being 17 is hard, especially if you’ve been 17 for 100 years.





	1. Memory 19

As it turned out, defeating guardians was more a matter of strategy than brute strength. Unlike organic monsters, the behavior of machines was predictable. They had a certain radius they patrolled, and they did so in a pattern. The trick was to catch it off guard and slice off one leg, then another, and then another, until it could no longer move. Then the rest would, theoretically, be smooth sailing. Link would be lying if he were to say the mechanical beasts didn’t still scare the living shit out of him, but at least he had a method for dealing with them now. Most of the time it even got him out of battle unscathed.

The ones in the castle town required a slightly different strategy than those in Hyrule Field; with so much rubble and debris, it was hard to make out their huge, spider-like forms before they spotted him, which made the first step a bit tricky. But in the same breath, compared to the open plains, there was much more to use as cover. He’d managed to gain the upper hand on this one by hiding behind a single wall, the only remains of the building that had once occupied the space. Within a couple of minutes, he’d gotten it to short circuit and collapse into a pile of parts. It was almost a clear shot to the castle gate now.

Months had passed since he’d first woken up on the Great Plateau, stark naked and barely aware of his own name, yet burdened with the duty to save what was left of a once mighty kingdom. He had freed the divine beasts, recovered all of the memories the Princess had left him to recover… the only thing left was to face the cause of it all: Calamity Ganon. For weeks going on months, saving Princess Zelda had been his only motivation. At first, he’d followed the orders of the late King and Lady Impa in hopes to uncover information about his own identity. But as he began to remember the princess more clearly, his motivations shifted, until she was all he could think about.

Link crouched down, collecting the parts from the defeated guardian and stuffing them in his pouch.  Any memories he had independent of Princess Zelda could come later, he reasoned. Once this was all over, if he defeated Calamity Ganon, he’d have the rest of his life to uncover the missing pieces of himself. And if he _didn’t_ defeat Ganon… well then, suddenly it wasn’t his problem anymore. A morbid way of considering his own mortality maybe, but he’d already cheated death once, more than once if you counted even half of the _bullshit_ he’d been through in the last couple of months. He _needed_ to feel some level of emotional detachment from the possibility of his own death. It kept him from breaking down completely.

 _‘It’s now or never,’_ he thought, dusting off the knees of his trousers. It was then that something in the rubble caught his eye. Leaning against the crumbling wall, covered in 100 years-worth of dirt and debris, sat a beautiful little doll.

 

\---

“Big Brother!!”

A blonde little girl, not more than seven or eight years old, shouted and rushed across the street towards Link. Her white dress and long hair flew behind her. She clutched a beautiful little doll in her right hand.

Link picked her up when she reached him, tossed her in the air and caught her again just to hear her giggle. “Hello Ayrll,” he said, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a small bag of honey candies. “I brought you something.”

Ayrll squealed with joy, grabbing the bag and jumping from his arms, “My favorite! Thank you!” Once her initial excitement calmed down, she a moment to eye her brother up and down. Link could see the gears turning in her head as she assessed him, and then, finally, said, “I’ve never seen you wear that tunic before. I like it! It’s pretty, more pretty than your regular uniform.”

It was the first time Link had worn the bright blue tunic made for him by Princess Zelda. After the ceremony with the other Champions, the princess had excused herself to her room, quite nearly slamming the door in Link’s face. Trying not to let her obvious resentment get to him, he took it as an opportunity for an evening off. It would likely be his last one for a while.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he told her. “Let’s go for a walk.”

As they walked, Link did his best to explain to her everything that was going on. He was officially Princess Zelda’s appointed knight, and Champion of Hyrule, as of that very morning. He was to follow her wherever she went to protect her while she was in public. Because of this, he explained, he would likely be gone much more often. The time between their visits might be longer.

“But I will always come back,” he said. “No matter how long I’m gone. I promise.”

Ayrll was quiet for a long moment, her face very serious despite the childish way she walked along the rim of the fountain in the square. She squeezed her brother’s hand suddenly, and whether it was with concern for his words or simply to catch her balance, he couldn’t tell.

“Link?”

“Yes?”

“Everyone—the other girls, the Sisters when they think we can’t hear them—they’re talking about a big scary pig called Ca… Clamity Ganon. You know, from the story Mummy used to tell me? They say he’s coming back.”

“…So I’ve heard.”

“And the story, the story says that even though Clamity Ganon tries to do a lot of bad stuff, the princess and her brave knight put a stop to him,” her volume dropped, almost to a whisper. “Is it true? And… doesn’t that make you the hero?”

Link’s pace slowed to a stop. How could he tell her what was true, when he didn’t even know himself? In only so many years, Calamity Ganon had gone from an old legend to a very real threat, with himself and the princess at the center of it all. _Was_ he going to protect everyone? He didn’t know. He had the sword that sealed the darkness, but was he truly worthy of wielding it? The other champions all seemed formidable, but would that really be enough? The only thing he knew for certain was that he was terrified, but he couldn’t tell Ayrll _that_. Her childhood—his adolescence—had been wracked with instability since the death of their parents. He was her only pillar of support in this world, and he couldn’t let her know that said pillar was slowly breaking into pieces, crumbling under its own weight; that he was made of sand, only pretending to be steel.

Link had been wearing a mask for years, hiding the worst parts of himself—his fear, his anxiety—from the rest of the world, even from his own sister. She was too young to know the truth. He needed to be strong for her, even more-so than he was for everyone else. So he adjusted his mask, crouched to her level, and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “I need you to listen to me, Aryll,” he said, softly. “No matter what happens, I promise I will keep you safe. I won’t let you get hurt or leave you all alone. Do you understand?”

Ayrll nodded. Link hoped his words were more reassuring to her ears than they were to his.

 

\---

Link vomited.

It was a stronger reaction than he’d had to any memory so far. Holding the princess as she cried in the rain following their escape from the castle had caused his heart to ache, recalling his own near-death at Fort Hateno sent chills up and down his spine for days afterwards. His memories of the Champions had been bittersweet, knowing they had been lost. But this… for this there was no comparison.

He’d had a sister.

A family.

And he’d _failed_ her.

He hadn’t found her on the day of the Calamity. He hadn’t kept her safe. And even, even if he suspended all doubt and clung to the impossibility that she’d somehow escaped the carnage, even if he dared to hope she’d gone on to live a long and happy life… he’d still lied to her.

He didn’t come back.

Had she died alone? Afraid? Did she spend the last moments of her life calling out for him, believing in a way only a child could that he’d keep his promise, that he’d come and save her? Did she have time to realize he’d _lied_ to her before—

For the first time since waking up, Link _sobbed_.

Crying itself was nothing new, it was practically a regular occurrence. He’d cried after recovering other memories and he’d cried to himself at night when he was feeling especially hopeless, but he had always done so quietly. Dignified. The kind of silent misery which was acceptable for a man to display. _This_ was anything but dignified. It was loud. Messy. If there had been anyone within miles of the castle town, they surely would have heard his anguish. But no one else dared come so close. He was alone, truly alone, and the thought of his own loneliness only made him sob harder.

It was hours before he could even bring himself to his feet, frozen to the ground with despair. He gazed up at the silhouette of the castle through blurry eyes. His mind drifted back to the princess who waited for him there, struggling to keep Ganon sealed, and for a single, terrible moment… he blamed her. If only she had been able to unlock her sealing powers sooner, Ganon could have been stopped before he had a chance to begin. If only Link hadn’t been burdened with her safety, he could have taken the time to ensure his sister’s. He almost considered turning around, going back to Hateno and leaving her there, giving up and letting the chips fall where they may. It would serve her right, he thought.

But then as soon as the anger had appeared, it vanished, leaving Link feeling disgusted with himself all over again. Not only had he failed his sister, now he dared even _think_ about taking his anger out on Princess Zelda. This wasn’t any more her fault than it was his, and to give up now, when he was so close, would be to fail her as well. She had saved _his_ life, sacrificed herself for him, imprisoned herself in the castle for one hundred years for the safety of her kingdom. No, there was only one being in all of Hyrule who held the blame for what had happened to Ayrll, and it was sharing Princess Zelda’s prison with her.

With new resolve and tears still staining his cheeks, Link began his final push towards the castle.


	2. Rest

The second time Link sobbed so ugly was hardly a day later.

“Do you really remember me?” she’d asked.

He’d only nodded, stupidly, unable to find his voice. Not a second later she threw herself into his arms.

If anyone had asked him, he would have claimed she was the one who started crying first. In all honesty though, he wasn’t sure. He remembered one second, he had been standing in the middle of Hyrule field, barely holding on to his sword, and the next he was on the ground with an armful of Princess and eyes full of tears. They’d cried themselves to exhaustion just like that, covered in dirt and blood and sobbing all over each other. Holding on tight as if they didn’t believe that the other could possibly be real, that this was anything more than a dream.

“You’re alive,” she kept repeating, “you’re really alive…” He was. And so was she. It didn’t seem like it could be real. Their whole lives, the past 100 years and however many months had led up to this moment, and now… it was over. They had won, Calamity Ganon would threaten Hyrule no more. The Champions, the King, Ayrll… none of them had died in vain.

That was the last thought that ran through Link’s mind before he blacked out.

 

***

When he came to, Princess Zelda was standing over him, thick brows drawn together with worry. He was lying on something soft. Above them, rather than the blue skies of Hyrule Field, was a wooden ceiling. Where were they? How had she moved him? Was this really a dream after all? Where was his horse? Where was his _sword?_ He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a sharp pain in his gut. The princess gently pushed him back down.

“Shh, Link. Please, don’t try to move,” she urged. “You’re in Kakariko Village. A doctor has already been by to look at you. You’re injured. Not mortally, thank Hylia, but that doesn’t mean you should press your luck,” scolding him. Some things never changed. “I need to go let Impa know you’re awake. _Stay still._ ”

No choice but to obey, Link lay back and listened to her footsteps disappear down the stairs. Were it not for the searing pain in his left side grounding him in reality, he’d be certain he was dreaming. Calamity Ganon was defeated. Princess Zelda had been watching him sleep. He was in Kakariko Village—Impa’s house? On the second floor? How _had_ the princess gotten him here? He’d had a horse, but could she lift him? Onto a horse? How did she get him up the narrow staircase to the second floor? Paya must have helped her, but Paya hadn’t been in Hyrule Field with them, so _how—_ he shook his head. It didn’t matter. He winced and could swear he felt his brain rolling around in his skull.

“So, you’re finally awake, are you?”

He turned his head just in time to catch Impa coming up the stairs, the princess following close behind her. His temples throbbed again with the action.

“About time you got up, we were starting to get worried down there. How are you feeling?” Impa asked.

Link gave a non-committal groan.

“That sounds about right,” Impa chuckled. “The good news is, you’re going to be fine. Just a little beat up is all. Far from the worst condition you’ve ever been in.”

Link supposed he couldn’t argue with that.

“You’ve done well, Link,” Impa continued. “You’ve earned some rest.”

“Link,” the princess said after a moment, “Paya is going to be bringing you some food in a bit. You’ve been out for a couple of days, you need to eat. I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”

Before he could say anything, Princess Zelda was reaching a hand under him, urging him to sit up slowly, pushing more pillows below his shoulders to support the new position. Forget the grounding presence of pain, this _definitely_ could not be real, Link decided. Sure, they had just been sobbing into each other’s arms in the middle of an empty field… however many days prior, but for some reason, it was different for her to be touching him like this. It reminded him of the time she had patched him up after they’d been ambushed on Death Mountain. He hoped it was dark enough in the room that she couldn’t see him blush.   

Luckily, the smell of food coming up the staircase soon erased all other thoughts from Link’s mind. He hadn’t realized it before, too distracted by the pain and utter absurdity of his situation, but he was _starving_. He barely took the time to give Paya a nod in thanks before digging into the pumpkin stew she placed in front of him. It hurt to swallow. It was so hot it burned his throat on the way down. He could hardly bring himself to care. Impa made a comment about him eating like a Moblin. He could have retorted, said something rude and gotten a scolding for it, but that would have required him to stop using his mouth for eating. Link couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less.  

Once he finished eating, Paya took his dishes and replaced them with a small bottle of pink potion. “It’s, um, you should drink this too,” she told him. “It’s supposed to help you heal faster.”

Hesitantly, Link steeled his stomach and downed the whole bottle in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet, certainly better than the fire-proof elixir he’d had to force himself to drink while visiting Death Mountain. Once the bottle was empty and they were satisfied with his condition, Impa and Paya bid him a good night.

After they had disappeared down the stairs, he was left alone with Princess Zelda yet again. She had changed her clothes, traded in her white dress for an unassuming Sheikah outfit—most likely borrowed from Paya. Her golden hair flowed over her shoulders, and the light from a candle in the corner of the room flickered in her green eyes. There was something to be said about seeing Princess Zelda, _really_ seeing her, not just in his memory but here in front of him, moving, breathing, and very much _alive_. She was stunning. Without the context of the royal court surrounding them, without the adrenaline of having just defeated Ganon guiding him on instinct, Link had no idea how he was supposed to act. He felt stupid. Here he was, Hero of Hyrule, saved the princess and defeated the dark beast, and yet he couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say to her.

“…I read your diary,” was ultimately what he decided on.

_Idiot._

The princess jolted, as if she hadn’t expected him to speak at all. Once his words hit her, she could only stare at him, flabbergasted, “You _what_?”

“I, I mean,” Link sputtered, feeling even stupider than he had ten seconds prior, “I didn’t mean to, it was just, sitting there, on the desk, and it was wide open, and I didn’t realize what it was until I already started reading, and then I couldn’t just stop—”

“Is _that_ what took you so long,” to Link’s surprise, her voice had a teasing tilt to it that stopped his blabbering in its tracks. “Did you just stop to read every book you came across?”

“…sort of?” he said. That _was_ more or less what he’d been doing when he wasn’t fighting monsters or freeing Divine Beasts. When he’d first woken up on the Great Plateau, he hadn’t remembered a single thing about who he was or what was happening. Almost everyone who’d been alive back then was gone now, but the things they’d written remained. Reading everything he came across became one of the most efficient ways to catch himself up. Journals of his contemporaries were the most helpful of all. He’d dug through all of the Champions’ journals, looking for details about them, looking for details about _himself_. Mipha’s diary reminded him that he’d been to the domain before as a child. Daruk’s training journal recounted the incident that made the King decide to name Link the princess’s personal knight. Even _Revali’s_ reflections of him had been helpful, although they were mostly insulting. It wasn’t until after he’d already finished reading the princess’s diary that he realized he may have crossed a line.

Then again, finding his way through the destroyed castle had forced him to cross a lot of lines that would have gotten him in trouble in the past. Just entering the princess’s bedroom without explicit permission would have been enough to get him fired—or worse—one hundred years ago. Not to mention that he’d blown up a couple of walls and “accidentally” trespassed in the King’s personal study.

Speaking of…

“…I found something in the library I think you should see,” he said. Princess Zelda paused whatever retort she had in mind to listen. “It’s in my pouch.”

She gave him a look, as if to say ‘ _we’re not done talking about this_ ’, but crossed the room to grab his things for him. “I don’t understand how you fit so much in this little bag,” she wondered out loud, handing the pouch to him.

Link shrugged dismissively, “Korok magic.” He stuck his arm in, digging around for the one book he’d taken with him from the castle. When his fingers bumped the leathery spine, he pulled it up and held it out for her.

It was an old leather tome, its pages yellowed with time but still in good shape. The symbol of the royal family was embedded into the front cover, and its gold sparkle was still so brilliant that there was no doubt it was genuine. Princess Zelda’s hands trembled slightly as she took it from him.

“ _The Writings of Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule…_ ” she read, softly. She shook her head. “No, I can’t, Link, I can’t read this…”

“Princess…”

“You don’t understand, I _can’t,_ ” she repeated. “I’m not ready yet, I don’t—wait, have _you_ read it?”

Link’s injuries screamed at him for how fast he turned to avoid her gaze.

“You _have,_ haven’t you? So it’s not bad enough you had to read _my_ diary, you read _your own king’s private journal_? Link, my _goddess_ , what did the Shrine of Resurrection _do_ to your sense of etiquette?”

“My sense of what?” he said, only half joking.

Princess Zelda huffed in annoyance, but Link could see the beginnings of a smile struggling to break through. She turned the heavy book over in her hands again, before she said, “Maybe later. I was just going to bed. You should try to get some more sleep, too. I know you probably don’t feel very tired after sleeping for two days, but rest is the best thing for you right now.”

It was as close to an agreement as he was going to get tonight. He _didn’t_ feel tired, but she was right: the more rest he got, the faster he’d be out of this bed. He nodded in deference.

His eyes followed her to the door, where the stopped to put out the candle. Once the room was swallowed by darkness, he heard her say, quietly, “…Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight, Princess.”

 

***

Link soon found he _hated_ being bedridden.

The princess spent most of her time by his bedside, but would leave during the day to speak with Impa or do who knows what else. Link certainly didn’t; he could barely leave his bed to even use the rest room. Paya would bring him all his meals and keep him company while the princess was away, but no matter what she or Impa tried to do to keep him entertained, sitting in one place all day was enough to drive him mad. He wanted to climb a 20-meter cliff, jump off a waterfall, _anything_ but lay in bed all day waiting for his traitorous body to be functional again.

“After you’re healed, we should probably go see Purah in Hateno,” said Zelda, scrolling through the map on the Sheikah Slate. “We owe her our gratitude as well, and I can’t wait to ask how she managed to unlock the other runes on the Sheikah Slate. I’ve been playing with the stasis function a lot recently, but you’ll have to show me how to use it properly. I’m having a hard time thinking of practical uses for it.”

“It works on guardians,” Link commented, absently. “Stops ‘em in their tracks, at least for a few seconds.”

“Really? Does it work on organic monsters?”

Link shrugged as best he could, “Don’t know, I’ve never had a need to use it on one.”

“We should test it out some time. Maybe I’ll see if I can stop some birds with it... or do you think it would be cruel to experiment on a living creature like that?”

“I can’t imagine being frozen in time is a pleasant experience.”

“...no, I suppose it certainly is not.”

It was quiet for another few minutes as Princess Zelda returned to the map. Link considered how lucky he had been. At least he had been unconscious during the 100 years he’d spent in stasis; the princess did not have such a luxury. She’d been awake the whole time, aware of the horrors happening around her, trapped in the sanctum with Ganon... it must have been hell. Link winced as he remembered that, for a moment, he’d considered leaving her there. He felt a stab of pain in his gut unrelated to his physical injuries.

“What’s this skull stamp you’ve placed at the base of Mount Lanayru?” Zelda asked, breaking Link out of his thoughts.

He didn’t even have to confirm which spot she was referring to in order to answer. After months of wandering, he knew his map like the back of his hand. “There’s a Lynel that lives there. The skull is to remind me to avoid that area,” Link explained. “I should probably go kill it one last time, now that the blood moons should have stopped.”

Zelda frowned, “Maybe later. Much later.”

Link feigned offense, “You don’t think I could fight a Lynel in this condition, Princess?”

“No, you probably could, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you try,” she said. “Do all of these skulls represent Lynels?”

“No, some of them are Hinoxes, or Talus. A couple of them are just regular monster strong-holds that I ran into on accident when I still didn’t have all my strength back.”

“There sure are a lot of them...”

“Hyrule is a dangerous place now, Your Highness.”

 

***

By the time he woke up on the fourth day he’d had enough. He’d counted and re-counted the boards of the ceiling at least twenty times. He was getting bed sores. There weren’t even any windows for him to watch the village through. Link was sure he’d go completely mad if he spent one more minute inside Impa’s house.

Legs shaking like a newborn colt, he dragged himself out of bed and across the room. Each step was like walking barefoot on Death Mountain, pain climbing up through his legs from the soles of his feet. Paya had left his clothes for him, miraculously absent of tears or blood stains, sitting by the door. Putting on his tunic was almost not worth the effort it took to get his arms over his head. He had to sit to put on his trousers, unable to support himself on one leg for long enough to get the other into them. But with each movement, his body remembered what it was to move, and the pain gradually decreased. Still, his knuckles turned white with how hard he clung to the hand railing as he made his way down the stairs.

Paya, stopped at the bottom of the staircase holding his breakfast, looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted two additional heads. “M-master Link! Are, are you sure you should be moving around like that? N-not that I’m questioning your judgement, I, I’m sure you’re perfectly aware of your own, of your own limits, but...”

“Let him be, Paya,” Impa said, sitting in her usual spot at the head of the room. “If he wants to get himself hurt again, that’s his choice to make.”

“Where’s Princess Zelda?” Link asked.

“She has been taking walks in the mornings,” Impa said, and then, seeing the look on Link’s face, “Don’t look at your elders like that. I’ve made sure Cado and Dorian keep an eye on her.”

“I’ll bet she loves that,” Link mumbled, limping towards the exit.

When he reached the double doors, he paused, overcome with the sense that he was forgetting something. He stood for a moment, patting himself down, taking inventory. He had his pouch, his boots, and the princess had nabbed the Sheikah Slate form him days ago, so no reason to expect he’d have that. He reached over his shoulder then, right hand coming up empty. So that was it, then.

“Where’s my sword?”

 

***

The Master Sword was currently strapped to the back of Princess Zelda, its bright purple scabbard hiding behind the length of her hair. The first time she had held it, after Link had fallen at Fort Hateno, she'd not had the sense to notice the way it seemed to thrum with a life of its own. Now, even with her powers weekend by one hundred years of strain, she couldn’t miss the way its energy radiated against her back, so alive that she could swear she felt it breathing.

All of Hyrule seemed to be teaming with the same strength and life as the sword. Princess Zelda did not know what she had been expecting to find once she was freed from Ganon’s grasp. Destruction, perhaps. Burned fields, hungry people, depleted wild life, maybe. Instead, she found quite the opposite. Kakariko Village was thriving. Children ran through the town during the day, their laughter ringing through the air in harmony with the calls of shop keepers advertising their wares to passersby. Food was in abundance, in even more variety than she remembered. At night, crickets chirped, and the light of fireflies reflected off the surface of the water. It was safe, peaceful. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the Calamity had never happened at all.

It was strange to be back, in more ways than one could count. Not only had she returned to Hyrule for the first time in 100 years, but to her mortal body as well. For the first couple of days, she felt as if she were watching everything through a window, seeing and hearing what was happening, but not experiencing it herself. Moving her limbs felt foreign, as if she were controlling a puppet. Then, on the third day, it rained. The rain drops on her skin served as a constant, gentle reminder that she was _alive,_ that all of this was real, not some fantastical dream. She sat in the rain for hours, just feeling, smelling, hearing, as if her senses had returned to her all at once.

Perhaps it wasn’t becoming of a princess to walk back through town soaking wet, the seat of her pants covered in mud, but no one said anything of it. The people of Kakariko Village all knew who she was, what she’d done, and yet they were nothing but friendly. They greeted her as she passed as if she were just another village girl, saying nothing of her dirty clothes or wet hair. Impa’s guards allowed her to go where she pleased, to speak with whomever she pleased, and only kept watch from a distance. For the first time in her life, Princess Zelda felt what it was to be free.

The one place in Kakariko where one could see the results of the Calamity was from the cliff at the edge of town. For whatever reason, Princess Zelda found herself there frequently. The remains of Goponga Village had flooded and were overgrown with wild life. Beyond the hills, the Akkala Citadel loomed as a testament to the Ganon’s horror. Behind her, the village graveyard told stories of those who had been lost to the Calamity and its aftershocks. Lost in contemplation, Princess Zelda did not even notice Link until he came up next to her, leaning on his forearms against the fence.

“What are you doing out of bed?” she chided him.

“I couldn’t take it anymore, being stuck in bed. I was going to lose my mind if I had to spend another day in there,” he said. “...Are you doing alright?”

Princess Zelda couldn’t place a finger on it, but something about Link was... different. In just the last few days she’d heard him speak more than in their entire time together before the Calamity. Not only that, there was something else about him, something in the way he carried himself now that made her feel as if he were a complete stranger, and at the same time, as if she’d known him like this for her entire life. She’d had a similar thought the day they first met, at his knighting ceremony. When her father had touched his sword to his shoulder and dubbed him Sir Link, that name echoed in her memory for days afterward. _Link... Link... Link..._ A name she’d never heard before, but which seemed so familiar nevertheless.

She pushed it out of her mind for the moment. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” 

“I’m fine,” he said, a bit to quickly to be convincing. “A little sore, but fine. I’m not the one who just got back to myself.”

  
“Well, I’m also fine. It’s just... strange,” she said. “So much has stayed the same, and yet everything has changed. I hardly recognize my own kingdom anymore...”

Link made a sympathetic sound to acknowledge her but didn’t say anything. Despite the efforts he was clearly making to hide it, she could see a storm brewing behind his eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that this whole debacle had been as hard for him as it was for her, perhaps even more-so. She’d asked him to do so much, to sacrifice everything for her, when he’d had no other memories or purpose to guide him. Surely, he’d had a family he’d lost as well, a life from before they met, something to live for apart from being her knight. Yet here he was, barely able to stand on his own, pretending he was fine for her benefit.

Typical Link. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as she thought.

“I know I asked this already... but I have to ask again,” she said carefully. “Do you really, truly remember me?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him the first time, no. The look of recognition in his eyes had been enough to convince her of that. She just… needed to hear it again. She needed to know how well, how much of his memory he’d managed to recover.

After a moment his reply came, so softly that she almost thought she’d imagined it.

“You’re practically all I remember.”

_Oh._

She sighed, “That’s what I was afraid of... I hoped that maybe, once you got a few memories back, you’d be able to regain the rest of them naturally, but I suppose that wasn’t the case...”

“There are some things, bits and pieces,” he said. “But it’s… spotty.”

“I’m sorry, Link. I wish I could have given you more than just the memories we shared. I can’t imagine what it’s like to only be able to recall a year of your life or less...”

"You don’t need to apologize, Princess.”

“Don’t say that, you did all of this for me when you barely know anything about yourself. I owe you more than I could ever repay you,” she insisted.

A quiet moment passed between them, only broken by the sounds of forest birds and calls of cuccos. It was a familiar silence. _So_ familiar, she was particularly caught off guard when Link turned to her with a mischievous smile that was decidedly _unfamiliar._ “Well,” he said, “you could start with buying me a big meat and rice bowl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link's a little cheekier than Zelda remembers him being. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the title because there were already too many fics called "Forgotten Memories."

“Impa was right, you know,” said Zelda. “You _do_ eat like a Moblin.”

Link gulped down a large bite of meat, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, “Do I?”

“You do,” she said. “Believe it or not, you _used_ to have table manners.”

Link hummed. What a life he must have led in the past--attending dinners, ceremonies, partaking in all sorts of high-society activities. A knight of Hyrule—no, a member of the _Royal Guard_ , the King’s _pet—_ would of _course_ have been expected to act like a gentleman, to be on his best behavior at every occasion. Table manners? When was the last time he’d even eaten at a _table?_ Most of his meals now were taken on the ground by a fire at best, and in the middle of battle at worst. He’d once fought off a hoard of bokoblins with his sword in one hand and a spicy meat skewer in the other, without dropping a single bite. He had been particularly proud of himself that day, but somehow, he felt that the princess would not be as impressed.

Pushing his luck, he lifted his spoon to point at the sword on her back, “So, when are you going to give me that back?”

She pushed his hand back down to his bowl, grimacing. “When you’re fully healed,” she said. “Until then, it’s mine. I know you won’t go getting yourself into trouble if you don’t have it.”

“You underestimate me, Princess. I got into plenty of trouble even before we were reunited,” Link said.

“I suppose you did, didn’t you?” she said.

_I’ve been watching you this whole time,_ she implied.

He’d wondered what she’d meant by that when she first said it; how deep the divine eyes afforded to her by Hylia could go, how long they could last. If she’d truly been watching him the whole time, every minute of every day, that would be... embarrassing. The past couple of months had had their fair share of stupid decisions, bad plans, and degrading situations—particularly the Boot Fiasco (oh goddess, had she seen _that_ whole bit?). Not to mention all the times he’d changed clothes, or _worse_... He _was_ a teenager, after all. He had _needs_. The tips of his ears burned with shame.

To his horror, the princess noticed, “What? Why are you so red all of the sudden?”

“It’s...” Link fumbled for an excuse, “Spicy. The meat.” It wasn’t.

She tilted her head to once side, “Strange, I didn’t think traditional Sheikah cuisine tended to be spicy...”

“Maybe their tastes have changed,” Link said, digging his metaphorical hole just a bit deeper.

“I guess that’s possible... it’s amazing how much can change in one hundred years,” said Zelda. “You know, it’s sort of funny. You missed it because you were unconscious when we arrived but, when Paya met us at the gate, I thought she was Impa. She looks just how I remembered her...”

Despite what she said, the princess didn’t sound like she thought it was funny.

Somehow it had never occurred to Link before, that Paya might be the spitting image of her grandmother one hundred years prior, or that image the princess had of Impa might be different than his. To see her now must be a terrible reminder of how much time had passed. Link regretted even bringing up the topic. He was beginning to better understand why he’d always kept his stupid mouth shut; he was better at talking himself into corners than out of them.

But he had to try. If he was going to make Princess Zelda sad, it was on him to cheer her up.

"...do you want me to show you how to use the stasis rune?”

The effect was immediate: her eyes lit up the second the words left his mouth.

_Score one for Link._

“Absolutely,” she said. “Only if you’re up to it, though. I don’t want you straining yourself.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Link said. He could only hope she didn’t see him wince as he moved to stand.

 

***

“Oh I see now,” Princess Zelda exclaimed, “so freezing something in time lets you manipulate its physics, allowing you to move things farther than you could otherwise.”

Link nodded, watching the rock they’d just released from stasis fly over the cliff and land with a splash in the swamp below.

“That’s fascinating. It's been one hundred years and Sheikah technology still continues to surprise me,” she mused. “Imagine where we could be now if they hadn’t been forced to give up their technology thousands of years ago. It’s such a shame. Once we return the kingdom to its former glory, I’d like to make certain that nothing like that ever happens again.”

_This_ was what Link had missed the most about her, he decided. Her relentless drive and excitement for research was contagious. Even if Link couldn’t understand half of what she was talking about, he hung on her each and every word like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. She was a genius, he thought. The real shame was that His Majesty hadn’t allowed her to put that genius to use.

Or rather, it was a shame he’d come to the conclusion that he should do so too late.

“You said it works on guardians, right?” the princess asked. “Have you ever launched one like that?”

He _wished_ he had. That would be a sight to see. Link was almost disappointed that he wouldn’t have a chance to try it now.

Almost.

“No, it doesn’t stop them for long enough to get enough hits in,” he explained. “Just one or two seconds, at the most.”

“Hmm, I wonder if that’s a side effect of them being Sheikah technology as well, if they have some sort of built in immunity...”

It was late by the time the princess had exhausted her list of questions for Link, but when they retired indoors for the evening, she looked happier than Link had ever seen her.

 

***

“I have a favor to ask of you."

Princess Zelda approached Link after dinner, clutching her father’s journal in two hands. For days, while Link was confined to bed, she had agonized over whether or not she should read it.

“Link gave it to you?” Impa had asked when Zelda had requested her advice two days prior.

“He found it somewhere in the castle,” she replied. “I think he’s read it. He didn’t exactly admit as such, but he’s the worst at lying. That’s not the point, though.”

“You want to know if _you_ should read it?”

“I know I _should_ , but I can’t bring myself to,” Zelda admitted. “I wonder if some things should just be left in the past...”

Impa considered the book, weighing it in her frail old hands, “It’s quite heavy, isn’t it?”

Zelda nodded slowly, unsure of the point her old friend was making.

“There must be thousands of books that were abandoned at the castle,” Impa said, “On all kinds of subjects, and most of them would probably be both lighter-weight and easier to find than this one. So why would he go to the trouble to find it, and to take it with him, if there wasn’t something in its pages that he thought you should know?”

Zelda couldn’t come up with an argument.

But try as she might over the next couple of days, she couldn’t bring herself past the first page. Her father’s handwriting stared up at her every time she opened it, dredging up old memories and emotions she’d rather not deal with. She didn’t have the willpower, the _courage_ , to turn each page on her own.

Which is what brought her to Link’s bedside tonight.

She sat down next to him on the bed, placing the book between them, “I was... I was hoping you’d be willing to read it to me.”

Blue eyes blinked up at her in shock.

“I know you’ve already read it, and even if you hadn’t... he trusted you with my life. I don’t think he’d mind if you did,” Zelda said. “Please... I’ve tried to read it myself, but I just... can’t. Not alone.”

Link still hesitated, and Zelda could see the conflict in his eyes. This was different, she knew. It was one thing to read something silently to oneself, another to read it out loud to someone else... Whatever her father had written that Link wanted her to read so badly, it must have been deeply personal. It wasn’t fair of her to ask him to insert himself into a situation where he’d likely feel like he was intruding on something so private.

But there was no one else she could trust. Not like this.

Her knight had never denied her anything, though. Link nodded with understanding and took the book into his lap. She settled back against the wall and closed her eyes, as Link carefully flipped open the front cover and turned to the first page.

“ _The tenth day in the month of Nayru, in the year Bosphoramus thirteen,”_ Link began. “ _Today, as the sun rose and a new day was born, my daughter, too, joined this sweet world...”_

Zelda listened quietly as Link read through the events of the early years of her life. The king had written about any number of things—trade disputes, diplomatic dinners, and of course the excavations of the Devine Beasts—but the one thing he wrote the most about... was her. She was his favorite topic. From her first steps to her first words, her interests and her favorite lullabies... every detail of her infancy and early childhood, preserved in his imposing handwriting. The princess found herself on the brink of tears.

“ _The second of Ordona, in the year Bosphoramus nineteen,”_ Link continued to read dutifully, politely ignoring the princess’s quiet tears. “ _My queen--”_

Zelda placed her hand over the page to stop him. That date haunted her, second only to the day of Calamity Ganon’s return—to her own birthday, unfortunately—in the pain it brought. If he read her this entry tonight, she knew she’d be unable to keep her grief from spilling over.

“That’s enough for now,” she said.

His eyes, normally so difficult to read, were sympathetic when he looked up at her. But like so many times before, he declined to say whatever he’d been thinking. Without a word, he closed the book and handed it back to her. The princess took it back, tucking it under one arm so she could climb off the bed.

“Thank you, Link,” she said softly.

The next several days fell into the same routine. They would wake up to eat breakfast with Impa and Paya before heading out for the day. Link would still be sore, though feeling better than the day prior, and Zelda would experiment with the Sheikah slate’s new functions while he kept watch nearby and did simple exercises to get his strength back. In the afternoon they might take a walk, though never much further than the forest east of the village. Link stayed close, never more than a few steps behind. She couldn’t believe it had ever annoyed her. 

Princess Zelda soon came to find that, while the villagers were friendly toward her, they simply _adored_ Link. Nearly every day someone would stop them to tell her how Link had done something to help them, and Link would always blush and deflect the praise as if it were nothing. From Impa’s guards to the girl who worked the front of the tailor’s store, everyone seemed to have something good to say about him.

None were quite as big of fans of Link as the children, however. Dorain’s two daughters, Koko and Cottla, had been shy when he’d first introduced them to the princess. They had spent most of their time over the first few days watching her from afar with wide eyes, only to run and hide if Zelda were to smile and wave at them. It was a reaction she was accustomed to, even before the Calamity. Despite her best efforts, the princess had never been particularly good with children. It wasn’t that she _disliked_ children, quite the opposite in fact. She simply found it hard to find common ground with them.

Link, on the other hand, was _excellent_ with children. Once Link began to spend more time outside with the princess, Koko and Cottla were suddenly a much more active presence. They would beg him to play tag, or hide-and-seek, and every time he would indulge them. It wasn’t long until Zelda found herself dragged into their games, and soon they became part of her routine as well.

“I like your dolly, M'ster Link,” Cottla had said one morning.

Curiously, Zelda looked up from where she had been fidgeting with the Sheikah Slate. Sure enough, there was a pretty little doll in a pink dress hanging out of the pouch on Link's belt. Link reached one hand down to touch it absently.

“What’s her name?” Cottla asked.

Link seemed to think for a moment before answering, “…Mila.”

Cottla reached out and shook the doll’s little hand, “Nice to meet you Mila! I have a dolly too, but she’s at home. Do you want to meet her?”

Link smiled warmly and nodded, but there was something else in his expression that gave the princess pause.

He looked almost as if he were going to cry.

Cottla did not seem to notice the same, but that was to be expected. “Okay!” she said cheerily. “Wait right here, I’ll be right back!”

After the little girl had run off, Link finally seemed to notice the princess’s eyes on him. They made eye contact for only a moment before Link looked away, scratching the back of his neck in the way he did when he was embarrassed.

She decided not the press him on it in that moment. But the question of where the doll had come from, and what it meant to him, weighed on her mind for the rest of the day.

At night, after dinner and before bed, they would sit together and read another section of the king’s journal. Just as he had the first night, Link read each page steadily and allowed the princess to grapple with her emotions in relative privacy, only stopping when her hand on his told him they were done for the night. His sensitivity to her feelings made her heart swell with old affection.

“ _Today I officiated the knighting ceremony of our fair kingdom’s youngest soldier in recorded history. He is a bright boy, a mere fourteen years of age, and the son of one of the finest knights to ever bless my ranks,”_ Link read. “ _I allowed him his examination two years early on the basis of legacy, thinking even if he failed now, it would provide valuable experience to benefit him in the future. But he surprised me. My feelings are mixed, for he is no older than my own dear Zelda. I do not know if I should be more concerned that he may be too young, or that my daughter may be growing up too fast._ ”

The princess made a rare interruption, “That was you.”

He paused for only a second before turning the page. Something told her that he’d come to the same conclusion on his own.

Link made intermittent appearances in the entries from that point forward; passing mentions of his existence in between two more detailed entries: one on the day he presented the king with the Master Sword, and the second on the day of the incident that sparked his decision to appoint him to Zelda’s personal guard. Sparse as his special features were, Link was the only member of the royal guard the king ever mentioned by name, further cementing the princess’s long-held suspicion that her father held a special favor for the boy with the darkness-sealing sword. One-hundred years ago, hearing as much would have driven her mad with jealousy. Now... it made her proud, strangely enough.

She may have _still_ been jealous, however, had she not remained the primary topic of her father’s memoir. Zelda was still mentioned in almost every entry. In each one, the king’s voice grew more desperate than the next as their relationship strained and Calamity Ganon’s return drew closer. While he had been almost unbearably strict and—as Zelda had felt—unsympathetic to her struggle, his private words betrayed the mask he put on. He had loved her more than she’d ever known. The princess cried, not only for the loss of her father’s life, but the loss of what their relationship could have been, were it not for the pressure of Ganon’s return.

“ _The tenth of Nayru, in the year Bosphoramus thirty…_ ”

“This is the last entry, Princess,” Link warned.

She knew. There could be no other entries after this one, for after that date there would be no one left to write them.

“Keep going,” she instructed.

Obediently, Link continued, “ _I have been told my Zelda went to the Spring of Wisdom… This will likely be her last chance. If she is unable to awaken her power at Lanayru, all hope is truly lost. If she comes back without success, then I shall speak kindly with her. Scolding is pointless now. I forced ten years of training on her… and after all that, it seems her power will stubbornly awaken some other way. Perhaps I should encourage her to keep researching her beloved relics. They may just lead her to answers I can’t provide. For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter’s return._ ”

No sooner had he closed the journal than Zelda began to sob.

She understood now, why Link had been so insistent that she read it, why he had bothered to take it from the castle in the first place. It had been excruciatingly painful, listening to the words her father had written all those years ago with the knowledge that she would never be able to see him again. She hadn’t wanted to hug him so badly since she was a small child, still reeling from the loss of her mother. Link made himself an acceptable substitute, holding her up as she leaned on his shoulder, tears staining his sleeve.

“Thank you, Link...” she blubbered. “I never could... I couldn’t have...”

“I understand,” his voice was soft, soothing.

“Not just for reading it for me, for thinking to take it from the castle in the first place,” she said. “I never would have thought to look for it... you have no idea how much this means, that you were thinking that much about me...”,

Link did not say anything in reply, but the princess could swear she heard his heart jump in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calendar is based on this person's incredibly well-thought-out head canons from 2010: https://www.deviantart.com/galassiel/art/Loz-CC-Hylian-Calendar-Myths-176672642
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	4. Memory 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda gets her first taste of the wild. Link reconnects with an old friend and eats something he shouldn't.

Two days later, Link was making no small show of his restlessness.

He’d moved on from the simple exercises and stretches he’d been doing during his initial recovery. While Zelda attempted to focus on the Sheikah Slate, he’d be nearby, doing push-ups; first normally, then one-handed, and then, if Koko or Cottla happened to be around, with one (or both) of them on his back. When Paya returned from the shops with a large load of groceries, he carried them up the steep staircase to Impa’s house for her, all at once. Paya, Hylia bless her, nearly swooned.

All this he did while making direct eye contact with the princess.

“ _Alright_ , I get the message,” she told him, shoving the Master Sword into his eager hands. “I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again. We can leave tomorrow. I’ve been anxious to see Purah, anyway.”

Link couldn’t help but grin as he reattached the sword to his back.

The saddle bags on Link’s horse full of more supplies than usual, they set off. He was unable to convince the princess to ride, and so they both walked, Link leading his horse along behind them. The princess’s head was on a swivel as they walked, taking in the sights, observing what had changed and what hadn’t. Link’s head was on a swivel as well, but on the lookout for danger. Monsters did not usually make use of this road, but more than once he’d come upon a “traveler” who turned out to be a Yiga assassin in disguise. He put himself between the princess and anyone they passed as subtly as possible, hood pulled over to hide his own face. He still hadn’t figured out how those bastards managed to recognize him so easily. 

“Have I told you yet how pretty this horse of yours is?” the princess asked. “Your old one was beautiful as well, but I just love this one’s red coat. What did you name her?”

“Romani,” Link replied.

“And you tamed her yourself, right? You always were good with horses, it was one of the many things I envied about you. I’m not surprised you didn’t manage to forget your sense about them,” she said.

Link pulled his hood a bit farther over his face to hide his blush.

It seemed every few yards, Princess Zelda would stop to take a picture of one thing or another. Link didn’t mind the slow pace, happy to just be out in the wild again. Besides, were it not for her, he’d have no reason to be here at all. His fate had always been entwined with hers. Even now, now that Ganon was gone and the fate of the world did not rest on them sticking together, he felt himself drawn to her, gravitating, being strung along behind her as if they were connected by an invisible thread. Where she went, he would follow. That much he had decided long before he went to face Ganon.

On the other hand, he was eager to get to Dueling Peaks stable, and her cooing over his horse only made him that much more impatient.

He’d been waiting for this moment since the day he first spotted the white stallion in the hills south of Sanidin Park. It had taken hours, practically an entire day to catch and tame the horse enough to get him back to the stable to register, another several weeks to get him trained properly. From a practical standpoint, it may not have been the best use of his time. He’d had a million other things to do, divine beasts to free, shrines to find, evil to vanquish. But when the princess returned, she would need a horse, and no other horse would do.

She humored his request to cover her eyes when they reached the stable, though her long ears still twitched trying to hear what he was whispering to the stable master about. Finally, when he’d brought the horse close enough that she’d surely be able to smell its breath, Link told her to open her eyes.

“ _Link,_ ” her surprised gasp alone stretched his smile from ear to ear, “this is… this is my horse! You got me my horse! _Link_ —”

If Link only had one wish, it would be to hear her say his name like that all the time.

“ _How?_ ” her eyes sparkled as she reached out to pet the horse. He accepted her touch beautifully, and Link felt a surge of pride at his success taming the once-wild stallion. “You even braided its mane, and... Goddesses, Link, that’s _the royal horse gear_ —where did you find it?”

“The Royal Stable Master’s grandson works at a stable in the south west,” Link explained. “I suppose he saved it… passed it down through his family. He gave it to me when I showed him the horse.”

“That’s _incredible_ ,” the princess said in awe, still stroking the horse’s neck. “All this time… I just assumed everything that was in the castle when Ganon returned had been lost… you _must_ introduce me to him some time. I need to thank him for preserving this, it’s in such great condition! It still looks like it was made yesterday!”

The next leg of their journey went much faster, and not only because they were both on horseback.

The first time Link had wandered through the plains west of Fort Hateno, he had felt an unexplained anxiety that lasted until long after he’d made his way into eastern Necluda. Even without a single memory to guide him, his body seemed to remember what his mind did not. The sight of so many guardians, dead as they were, pierced Link’s heart with a fear which, at the time, seemed irrational. But when Impa finally showed him the last picture, he’d known instantly where it was taken.

It seemed the princess shared his anxiety. She kept her horse at a steady trot, not stopping even once to snap a picture or examine something on the side of the road. Link kept steady pace behind her. Every few minutes she would look back, as if to make sure he was still there. He wanted to give her his hand, to let her hold onto it so she wouldn’t have to doubt. But she didn’t say anything, and so neither did he. 

The sky was dark before they were far enough from Fort Hateno to feel at ease again. The princess looked tired, and it was just as well—nighttime always brought new dangers.

“It’s still a ways to Hateno,” Link said, finally breaking the silence. “We should stop and set up camp, the road gets dangerous at night.”

The princess’s yawn told Link he had an agreement. He dismounted and led his horse off the path. This was as good of a spot as any, just under the overhang of a cliff to offer some extra protection from the elements. Link was not picky about his own sleeping arrangements—any moderately safe locale with room for a camp fire would do—but he loathed forcing the princess to sleep out in the wild. If only they’d made it just a little farther, there was an abandoned cabin at the ruins of the old horseback archery course. But if they went that far tonight, they might as well press onto Hateno, and by the time they made it there it would practically be morning.

“I see smoke just over there…” the princess said, sleepiness bleeding into her voice. “Why don’t we just ask to share their campsite? There’s safety in numbers, isn’t there?”

When Link turned to see what she was talking about, the princess was already approaching the source of the smoke. It wasn’t far, only about a hundred meters from where they stood now, but something was… off. It was rare for other Hylians to camp in the open—most sane people preferred to stay near stables or other signs of civilization. The only beings he knew to brazenly set up camp somewhere so exposed were himself and—

 _Oh no_.

Link closed the distance between them in an instant, grabbing Zelda’s arm none-too-gently and pulling her to hide behind a large boulder.

“ _What_ on _earth_ —”

“Shhh!”

The princess was silent.

Slowly, Link rose to his feet to peek over the top of the rock. Just as he thought, the source of the smoke was a camp not of Hylians, but of monsters. Four bokoblins, mostly red with the exception of one silver, snored around the campfire, while two others kept watch from towers on either end of the camp. Not a terribly difficult group, but still dangerous to walk into unprepared and unarmed.

He motioned for Zelda to join him for a look. When she did, her gasp was so loud that Link had to pull her down with him as he ducked behind the rock again.

“Fire means monsters more often than it means people,” Link whispered. “Especially this far from a settlement.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda whispered back. “I didn’t know…”

“You couldn’t have,” Link said. “I’ll take care of it. Stay here.”

The princess made to protest, but Link was already drawing his bow.

First things first: the watch guards. One carefully aimed arrow to each of their heads got the job done quickly. Both monsters died without so much as a single warning yelp to their sleeping companions.

He spared a quick glance at the princess to gauge her reaction. She seemed worried rather than impressed, but she offered no more signs of protest. Link gave her a quick smile and a wink, then hopped over the boulder and snuck towards the camp.

So he was a bit of a show-off. There were worse things to be.

The three red bokoblins went down easily. At first, Link had felt somewhat bad about killing anything in its sleep when it would be unable to defend itself, even if it _was_ a monster. He suspected he’d been taught against fighting dirty under the Knights of Hyrule, that it went against some code of honor so ingrained in his being that it broke through his amnesia. Then he’d spent the night in a once-cleared monster camp, only to be woken up at midnight by a red moon and the smack of a wooden club against the side of his face. He stopped feeling bad after that.

The silver one put up more of a fight. Link’s first sneak strike had failed to land fatally, and it jumped awake. It roared horribly, in anger and pain, but had the strength left to pick up its own weapon and swing. Link leapt to the side just in time and used the opening it provided him to land a flurry of blows.  

Once the final monster had fallen to his blade, Link turned to smile and wave at the princess who watched him from behind the rock.

She climbed over the rock to make her way towards him, “Not that I’m surprised, but was that _really_ necessary?”

“They were too close to the path, someone else could have made the same mistake you did if I’d left them,” Link had turned his attention toward the camp fire--specifically, the large slab of meat left roasting over it. He gave it a once-over to check for doneness, then lifted it from the skewer and held it out to the princess, “Are you hungry?”

She looked skeptical, “Do you even know what that is?”

Link blinked at her, “It’s… meat.” He’d thought that much was obvious.

“Yes but from _what_? They’re _monsters_ what if it’s…”

“What if it’s Hylian?” Link finished for her, unable to keep the teasing tone from his voice.

The princess was unamused, “Yes! I’m serious, Link!”

“My apologies, Your Highness. Allow me to test it for you, so that your royal palate may be spared from potential sin.”

“You are _not_ as funny as you think you are,” Zelda said. Link was already taking a bite.

Bokoblins were terrible cooks. They never seasoned their food, and oftentimes the meat was so dry that even Link could barely stand to eat it. But the lack of additional flavors _did_ have one benefit, in that it made it immediately obvious which animal the meat had come from. Link swallowed his bite and reported, with an air of authority, “It’s pork.”

“You’re certain?”

“Completely,” he offered her the skewer again.

“Don’t you want any?” she asked, still hesitant.

Link’s stomach growled in protest even as he said, “I’ll just eat whatever you don’t.”

Resigned, the princess finally took the skewer from him. For a moment she only studied it, as if her first bite required an amount of strategy. Just as Link was thinking to offer advice (“You… you just bite it, Princess”), Zelda opened her mouth wide and sunk her teeth into the meat. Her brows drew together as she struggled to tear off a piece. It was decidedly un-princess-like, the way she ripped a chunk of it off the skewer with her teeth, more than she could easily chew, the juices sticking to her face.

It was also just about the cutest thing Link had ever seen.

The princess caught him choking back laughter, “Oh stop it, not everyone has perfected the art of eating like a monster.”

“I don’t know, I’d say you have it down pretty well, Princess,” Link retorted.

“Well I _never_ ,” said the princess. Had she not been so obviously trying to hold back a smile, Link would have thought he had honestly offended her, “Is this new cheekiness of yours a side-effect of the Shrine of Resurrection, or were you just better at hiding it from me before?”

Their banter continued, light and sprinkled with exchanged laughter, while Link began to build a shelter. By the time the princess had finished all she could eat, Link had assembled a makeshift tent using a large blanket that had been strapped to his horse’s saddle, and a spear left behind by the vanquished monsters. It wasn’t ideal, certainly not fit for a princess, but it would keep the wind and dust out for the night.

When she handed the skewer over to him, over half of the meat remained. Link asked no less than three times if she were sure she’d had enough.

“Link, honestly, I couldn’t eat anymore. The rest is yours,” she said.

He hesitated only a moment more before his hunger finally got the better of him.

Seeming satisfied, the princess turned toward the tent, “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be going to bed. Make sure you try to get some sleep too, okay?”

Mouth too full to form a proper reply, Link only nodded and waved her off into the tent. He was thankful for the excuse—if he’d been able to speak, he would have had to lie more explicitly. He had no plans to sleep, not tonight, not any night when they were out alone in the wild like this. It was one thing to sleep outside while he was by himself. If something attacked him during the night, he would wake up and deal with it. If the same thing were to attack the princess and Link were asleep, he might not know until it was too late. One night without sleep wasn’t nearly as bad as the _days_ he spent in Vah Naboris, struggling to regain control of the divine beast with hardly a moment’s rest. No, compared to that, this would be easy.

Once he’d cleaned it of the final scraps of meat, he set the skewer back on the fire and set to finally removing his weapons. He’d grown accustom to sleeping on his stomach with them still strapped to his back to avoid losing them. Even when he stayed at the stables, he’d taken to keeping the Master Sword in its scabbard under his pillow for safety. But its weight was a constant strain on his shoulders, and if he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well give his back a break.

He rolled his shoulders and neck to break the tension, twisted his back to crack his spine.. It was a beautiful night. Link tilted his head back to look up at the stars, billions of them sparkling in the clear sky. Somehow, it seemed as if the sky itself was more peaceful now. The moon’s light reflected off the surface of the river next to the camp, glowing bright, full, and pure _white_. Link could have cried at the sight of it, a full moon untainted by Ganon’s malice, a sign that the nightmare was over. For once, he found himself enjoying the nighttime rather than anxiously awaiting the return of the sun.

When Link finally looked back down, a different kind of glow caught his eye and shot ice straight through his veins.

The sword.

The sword was glowing.

Link grabbed it on instinct, jumping to his feet, heart beating wildly in his chest. The sword would only glow when it sensed Ganon’s influence—inside the divine beasts, near the castle… and other than that, when there was a guardian nearby. It was a warning, a sign of imminent danger. But Ganon was _gone_. Whatever influence was left in the world, including the hostile guardians, should have vanished with him. So why—

_[Master Link.]_

Only then did Link finally hear the voice that resonated from within.

_[Master Link, please calm down. You are safe.]_

He watched, stupefied, as the light shrouding the blade began to flow out from its tip. It warped together in the air in front of him, and the glow became so bright that he had to cover his eyes.

When he opened them again, the sword slipped from his fingers.

 

\--- 

Maybe, if he hadn’t gone outside that night, his fate would have been different.

Or maybe, it was fate that sent him outside in the first place.

Newly-knighted members of the Hyrulean Guard were required to attend the training camp north of Hyrule Castle. It was there that, for the first year of their service, their fighting technique and moral aptitude would be tested and refined. Most of the men— _boys_ as they were—dreaded it. A whole year outside of the Castle Town, crawling through mud and running obstacle courses in full armor. No playing. No drinking. No girls. Most of them saw it as the final barrier between them and the glamourous life of a senior knight.

Link wasn’t in it for the glamour.

He also wasn’t very popular.

“ _Dinky Linky_ ,” his peers would call him.

“Think yourself so special, don’t you? Just ‘cause the King favored you enough to let you take the exam early.”

“No one would even know your name if it weren’t for your father.”

“Peers” may not have been the appropriate word. They were fellow newly-inducted knights, yes, but most of them were three or four years older. Being the youngest knight in Hyrule’s recorded history was an honor, but it also meant _being_ the youngest. At such a young age, only a couple of years could make a world of difference. Link’s skill was beyond compare, and his technique was remarkable… but he was short. He’d always been short. This, combined with his rigid silence and enviable talent, made him an easy target.

Someone had pissed in his bunk that night. It was cruel, far crueler than the standard jeers and taunts he’d grown used to. Their days at the camp were long and exhausting, and all Link ever wanted to when training was over was to go back to the barracks and sleep. Instead, he was taking his sheets to the lake to wash.

He stood knee-deep in the water, biting back tears of frustration that would only serve to humiliate him further. In theory, he could go to the captains who supervised the camp. Cruel pranks were a clear breach of their code of conduct, and the perpetrators would certainly be punished, perhaps even kicked out. Unlike his peers, the older knights were fond of him, many of them having worked with his father personally and having seen Link grow up before their very eyes. But his reputation for being in the favor of those in authority was what had gotten him here in the first place—going to them for help would only further cement that status and make the teasing even worse. So Link bottled it up, stood strong in the face of adversity, and handled it by himself.

It was there, by the lake under the light of the moon, that a soft sound caught his attention. A soft _clack-clack-clack-clack_ , like a baby’s rattle, just barely perceptible over the other noises of the night. On the edge of the water, just down the way from where Link stood, something sparkled in the grass.

 _“This area near the Great Forest is a known locale for any number of spirits and faeries_ , _”_ the captains had told them on the first day. “ _I want to make one thing very clear: you are not to fraternize with these spirits. Normally they are harmless, but there is no telling what they will do if provoked. If you see something that seems out of place at night, do not approach it. If you hear something strange, ignore it. And if you’re stupid enough to think of going into the Lost Woods, you’d better be able to find your way out on your own--because no one is going to come looking for you_.”

Link hadn’t thought he was stupid enough.

And yet, he approached the mysterious sparkle anyway.

It let him get just close enough for him to be sure it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. There was definitely _something_ there, and Link had the strangest feeling that it was watching him back. He took one step too far and it bolted, rattling along the edge of the lake towards the forest.

If anyone had asked Link why he ran after it, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. Something had simply compelled him, convinced him without reason that he _had_ to follow it. It led him back behind the camp, on a path that would avoid the notice of any of the night patrols, and onto the path to the woods. If he lost it in the rush, it would stop, allowing him to catch sight of it again before taking off, almost as if it _wanted_ him to follow. It wound through the trees, leading him around so many different turns that he lost track of north and south. His rational mind was crying out, telling him this was insane. Fog was closing in over the woods, he didn’t know how to get back to camp, he had no weapon, and he was still in his night clothes. But something else inside him drowned it out, strung him along as if it were dragging him by a hook in his gut.

Finally, the sparkle stopped in its tracks, paused inside a hollow log as if to say, “we’re here!” before it disappeared entirely.

The log was enormous, big enough to walk through without crouching, as if it were a tunnel. As Link passed through, the rattling sounds became easier to hear and more frequent, and he could swear he saw _something_ moving in the leaves on the opposite side. A reasonable person may have turned around at this point, found themselves in a strange place that was clearly home to a force beyond mortal knowledge with no weapon and decided it was no place to be, but it would have been pointless. He was already lost. There was no way he could make it back to the camp. The only way to go now was forward.

The part of the forest beyond the log tunnel was completely dominated by the largest tree Link had ever seen. Its branches were in full bloom, the prettiest pink blossoms creating a canopy that seemed to cradle the forest. Moonlight broke through the trees in some spots, bouncing off the forest floor and bathing the area in a pale light. Unlike the rest of the woods, full of fog and dead trees with fearsome faces, this part of the forest was vibrant and lush with life. The trees were alive and green, the harsh caws of mountain crows replaced by the soft hooting of owls and the sound of running water. Patches of flowers lined a stone path—which seemed out-of-place somewhere so untouched by man—that lead to a low pedestal at the center of the clearing.

As he approached, the object on the pedestal caught Link’s eye and held it.

It was a sword, a particularly beautiful one, with a deep blue grip and a guard shaped like wings of a bird. The most striking thing about it, however, was its blade: thrust into the stone pedestal, it appeared to glow with an other-worldly light. For no particular reason, Link was suddenly certain that this is what had dragged him all the way here, that this sword was the force on the other end of the line, the fisherman that had him hooked. It took him the rest of the way to the pedestal, took his hands and wrapped them around its hilt. Before he could even consider the consequences, Link was setting his footing, squaring his shoulders, and pulling the sword from the stone.

It took no small effort to dislodge the blade. Every few seconds it would budge just a little, and yet the stone around it did not break or crack. Rather than being stuck in the pedestal, it seemed as if the sword _itself_ was stubbornly refusing to move. When it finally did come free, Link stumbled backwards with the excess inertia.

He turned it in his hands, watching the moonlight shine off the blade, catching his reflection on its polished surface. He gave it a few practice swings. It was lighter than he’d expected, longer than the broadswords he was used to but easier to handle. He was overcome with a sudden feeling of familiarity, as if he’d been wielding this sword since the day he was born, despite having never seen it before in his life.

A sudden rustle of leaves and an earth-shattering yawn knocked Link on his backside.

“ _Well, well, well, what do we have here…?”_

The tree, the gargantuan one that swallowed the forest, was speaking. Its blossoming branches swayed as it spoke, voice slow and deep. Link sat as if glued to the forest floor with his jaw dropped to his chest.

“ _Is it that time again…?”_ the tree mused. “ _I see you are right-handed this time._ ”

Link blinked, the sword, indeed, still grasped in his right hand.

“ _My apologies, I should introduce myself,”_ the tree said. “ _I have been referred to across time as the Great Deku Tree. I am the guardian of the forest, and everything within it… including that sword you have there._ ”

Link scrambled to his feet and rushed to place the blade back on the pedestal, head bowed in apology.

Where Link expected anger, the Great Deku Tree only laughed, a deep chuckle that shook pink blossoms from its branches, “ _So honorable. There is no mistaking it, you do indeed have the Spirit of the Hero. Tell me, young one, what is your name?”_

He struggled to find his voice, “I’m… Link.”

“ _A good name,”_ the tree said. “ _Keep hold of that sword, Link. That you managed to come here is proof enough that it is meant for you and you only.”_

Link looked down at the sword, its blade still glowing softly, seeming to thrum with a life of its own.

 _“That,”_ the Deku Tree continued, “ _is the Master Sword. I believe you may recognize it better as the ‘Sword That Seals the Darkness.’”_

Anxiety shot through Link like lightning. He must have been dreaming. _The Sword That Seals the Darkness_ was a legend, a myth on the level of the goddesses themselves. Link was a prodigy, but he was no hero, certainly not one worthy of wielding a sacred sword.

“ _It seems you don’t quite believe me,_ ” the tree said. “ _No matter, you’ll come to see your destiny soon enough. For now… perhaps I should allow her to introduce herself.”_

The light shrouding the sword suddenly flung from its tip, materializing into the form of a young woman. She was entirely blue, the moonlight reflecting off of her as if she was made from metal. She was wrapped in flowing cape the same color as the sword’s hilt, her face expressionless and eyes unreadable. When she spoke, her mouth didn’t move, and yet Link heard every word as clearly as if she were talking directly into his ear.

_[Hello, Master Link. I am Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword. My purpose is to assist the Hero, he who is reborn each time the world begins to fall out of balance, in sealing away evil and returning peace to the land.]_

_[I have no reason to expect you’ll remember who I am, but please believe me when I say... It is good to see you again.]_

 

\---

The same figure stood in front of him now. 

_[I did not mean to cause you alarm, Master. I can assure you I detect the presence of no hostile forces in your immediate vicinity. You may sit back down, if you wish.]_

Link did not sit down.

“I…” he kept his voice to a whisper, mindful of the princess sleeping deeply in the tent behind him. “ _I remember you_.”

_[Based on your reaction to my appearance, cross referenced with my data from your previous instances of memory recovery, I determined there was an 87% chance that you experienced the same phenomenon just now.]_

Oh yes, he _definitely_ remembered her now. That way she had of speaking was unmistakable. Always calm and calculated, unfazed by any situation. It had helped Link keep his wits about him on more than one occasion in the past, brought him back to reality when his anxiety got the better of him. Truthfully, he was overjoyed to see her again.

But he was also somewhat hurt.

“Where have you _been_?” he hissed. “It’s been _months_ , why didn’t you speak to me until _now_?”

_[My calculations suggested that it would be unwise to add another layer of information that could be perceived as confusing to your already vulnerable mental state. You have had others to guide you on your journey. Until now, it has been unnecessary to speak with you directly.]_

There it was again, the same sentiment that King Rhoam’s spirit has expressed in the Temple of Time back on the Great Plateau, his reason for not telling Link of his identity sooner.

He was _fragile._

_Vulnerable._

It was insulting. After everything he’d been through, all he’d accomplished, being treated as if he would break so easily was maddening.  

"I’m not a _child_ ,” he told her.

_[Chronologically, no, you are well over one hundred. But both physically and mentally, you are seventeen years old, Master. My data shows that this is below the typical age of maturity for--]_

“Stop, stop, I don’t _care_ ,” Link interrupted, more irritation bleeding into his voice. “What was so important to tell me that you had to break your oath of silence for, then?”

The spirit seemed to consider him for a minute.

_[...It is time for us to part ways, Master Link.]_

Whatever he had expected her to say, that was not it.

_[You have completed your duty as the hero. Hyrule is safe for now, but some day, long after you are gone, darkness will descend upon the land again. When that day comes, the Master Sword will be needed once more. You must return the sword to its pedestal in the forest, now that you no longer need its power.]_

Link had always known he’d have to return the sword. Fi didn’t _belong_ to him, she was his partner; it wouldn’t be right to just keep her forever as he saw fit. But he had assumed their parting would be later, much later. After everything had worked itself out, after the kingdom was restored and everything was as it should be, then they would part ways. This, though, this was too soon. Ganon may be gone, but there was still so much to do, still so much he didn’t remember, still so much he didn’t understand. The sword had been his comfort, a pillar of familiarity... a friend.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“So that’s it then?” Link said, irritation slipping into anger. “You finally decide to talk to me again, only to tell me that this is over.”

_[Master Link--]_

“Who says I don’t need you anymore? You’re not just a _tool_ , Fi, you were my _friend_ ,” Link said. “I can’t just...”

So much for not breaking easily.

_[This is non-negotiable, Master. It is simply the way it is, the way it always has been. Time moves forward, day becomes night, the cycle repeats. You and I have no choice in the matter.]_

Link frowned, plopping back down on his seat to bury his face in his hands.

“I never have any choice in anything, do I?”

 

_***_

Zelda awoke to the smell of bacon.

She blinked up at the cloth roof of the makeshift tent, taking a minute to remember where she was. The ground was cold under her, even through layers of blankets. Her joints groaned at her as she sat up, unaccustomed to sleeping on the hard ground. It would just be something she’d have to get used to, she reasoned, along with eating suspicious meat without proper utensils. It was a far cry from her life before the Calamity, but it was also... exciting. Traveling in the wild, at her own pace, answering to no one, with Link at her side. She found herself almost giddy at the thought of it. Small discomforts and inconveniences be damned, she was going to make the most of her freedom.

She collected and re-folded her bedding, trying to match the neat roll that Link had it in the night before. The result wasn’t nearly as tidy as she’d hoped, but it was contained. The second set of bedding, laid out to the left of her own, was perfectly undisturbed.

Lips drawn in a tight grimace, the princess rolled that one up, too.

Link stood in front of the fire, flipping the large strips of bacon hanging from the skewer over the open flame. His face, dreadfully serious when he thought he was alone, immediately lit up at the sight of her, but a smile could only disguise so much. The bags under his eyes confirmed exactly as the princess suspected: he hadn’t slept a wink. Disappointing, but not surprising. He’d been acting strange ever since they’d left Kakariko—putting himself between her and anyone they passed on the road as if every other traveler were suspicious for one reason or another.

_“Hyrule is a dangerous place now, Your Highness.”_

He was being extra cautious, a bit paranoid. It was to be expected. That didn’t mean it was healthy, or even necessary.

“Bacon will be done soon,” he said. “I baked some apples too, in case you wanted something sweet.”

Three lightly baked apples sat on the ground just out of reach of the flames. Whatever scolding Zelda had been about to give him escaped her. Maybe he had tried to sleep. Maybe he hadn’t been able to. Nagging him for not resting when he’d thought enough to make her something sweet for breakfast after what had likely been a terrible, restless night, would be pointlessly mean. The happiness in his eyes when he looked at her was so sincere, too. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin that. “Thank you, Link,” she said. “That’s so kind of you.”

Link hummed in acknowledgement and went back to his bacon. Zelda took a bite of an apple. It was delicious, soft and sweet and exactly what she’d been craving.  

“Did you remember that I liked sweet things?” she asked. “Or did Impa tell you?”

“I, uh, read it. From a cookbook in the library. It said fruit cake was your favorite, so I figured…”

Zelda quirked one eyebrow, “You’ve become quite the avid reader, haven’t you?”

Link blushed, “I’m sorry.”

It took a minute for the apology to register in Zelda’s mind, “Sorry? What do you have to be… oh.”

He’d thought she was making a jab at _that_.

Link blushed harder.

Zelda sighed, “Link, I’m not mad that you read my diary. If anything, I’m embarrassed… I said some terrible things about you early on. I hope you don’t think I believe those same things now.”

“You had far worse to say about yourself than about me,” Link said.

Deeming the bacon done, Link scooped it off the skewer and came to sit next to her, setting the stack of it on a small cloth between them. Zelda only reached for a piece after he’d taken the first two off the top. He’d gotten her leftovers last night, he deserved as much as he wanted this morning.

Zelda continued, “What I _meant_ was just that I’m surprised. You never seemed so bookish back then, that was more of my thing. It’s funny that you’d be so inclined to read now.”

Link at least had the decency to swallow his food before he replied, “It’s an easy way to learn about things I forgot. Besides I…” the blush returned, “I always liked listening to you talk about your research and things.”

The princess’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest, “You, you did? You— _really_?”

Link nodded.

“But you…” Zelda sputtered, “You wouldn’t eat the frog!”

Those certainly hadn’t been the words she’d been going for. His confession that he liked listening to her talk about research had scrambled her brain. It might as well have been a declaration of love, it flustered her so. No one had ever, _ever_ told her they enjoyed listening to her talk about her research. Even Purah and Robbie, as much as they appreciated her interest, were always focused on their own projects. Link was the only one who ever really _listened_ , his refusal to ingest live amphibians notwithstanding. Of _course_ he hadn’t eaten the frog. He was her knight, not her test subject. No person of sound mind would eat—

“Do you want me to?”

Zelda balked, “W…what?”

“Do you want me to eat a frog, Princess,” Link repeated.

“Is... is that an offer?”

Link shrugged, as if they were talking about something as mundane as the weather, “Sure.”

He was teasing her, he _had_ to be. Exposure to the Shrine of Resurrection had given him a weird sense of humor, was all. Just as the princess was about to accuse him of such, he stood up and started walking towards the river, kicking off his boots and rolling up the legs of his trousers on the way. 

If it was a joke, it was an elaborate one.

Zelda followed him to the edge of the water and watched as he crouched down to scan the surface. Slowly, so as to not disturb the water too much, he inched towards his target: a little green frog swimming _just_ close enough to the river bank to reach. Once it made it to the edge the frog made to leap into the grass, and Link snatched it right out of the air, reflexes sharp as ever.

“Ta-da,” he said, his tone and inflection too close to how Zelda had said it all those years ago to be a coincidence. He _was_ teasing her, she was sure of it now.

Or at least she had been, until Link proceeded to stuff the poor creature into his mouth.

Zelda screamed and smacked him in the chest, “Link, _no,_ spit it _out!_ ”

Unfortunately, the smacking produced the opposite of its intended effect. Whether he had truly been meaning to follow through or not became irrelevant when the small jolt of force caused him to swallow the frog whole.

Horror and intrigue fought for purchase on Zelda’s face. Link held his stomach with one hand and covered his mouth with the other. For a moment, Zelda was worried he was going to puke. He probably should have, given the circumstances, but somehow, he managed to keep both the frog and his breakfast down.

“Did it... do you feel anything?”

Link hiccupped, “I think I feel it jumping around.”

Zelda paled. That sounded _terribly_ unpleasant. “Anything else?” she asked, hesitantly. “Enhanced... abilities? Or something?”

“Nothing at all,” Link said, hiccupping again. “That only works if--” another hiccup, “--you cook it into an elixir.”

Zelda picked one of his boots up off the ground and threw it at him.


	5. Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been like over a month y'all! Truth be told I have a boring office job and I write this thing almost exclusively when I'm bored at work, but work has been busy lately!! And I need to keep my job for like... bills and stuff so! Less time for fic :( 
> 
> Full disclosure I edited the last half and posted this while Drunk

Link’s hiccups lasted the rest of the way to Hateno. Had he not brought this fate upon himself, the princess might have felt sorry for him. Instead, she found the way his shoulders bounced every few moments amusing. 

“So you’re going to teach me about making elixirs, yes?” she asked.

“Anything you want,” Link said. “I don’t make them too often, though. I—” again with the hiccups, “—’d rather just eat food with the same effects. Kills two birds with one stone.”

No surprise there.

They ran into a few more groups of monsters along the road. All of them were weak enough that Link disposed of them without breaking a sweat, but sitting atop her horse just _watching_ as he cut down each monster that crossed their path made Zelda feel... useless. She knew he didn’t need any help, least of all from _her_. Even while suffering from the worst case of hiccups Hyrule had ever seen, Link was a force to be reckoned with in battle. In the past, watching him fight had made her worry for his safety, certainly, but it had never made her think that she should step in to lend a hand. This urge, this itch under her skin that told her to fight with him, to _protect_ him, was something new.

Each time he drew his sword, Zelda’s mind flickered back to that day. The way he’d barely been able to stand. The smell of burnt skin and hair. The blood. The way he’d steeled himself in front of her anyway. The weight of him in her arms as his final breath passed through his lips. She couldn’t do that again. She’d been near hysterical when Dorian and Cado had found them in Hyrule Field after the final battle with Ganon, crying and begging them to save his life even as they assured her that his pulse was strong, and that they had a doctor ready to see him as soon as they got back to Kakariko. There was nothing Zelda feared more than losing him now.

A man’s voice called out as they reached the entrance to Hateno, breaking her out of her thoughts. He was young, not much older than the two of them, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and wielding a pitchfork as if it were spear. It seemed he recognized Link.

“Oi, will you look who’s back… and will you look who he’s got with him!”

Zelda exchanged a look of mutual panic with Link. How did this man know who she was? The people of Kakariko had known, but the Sheikah had been guardians and confidants of the Royal Family for thousands of years. Impa had advised against revealing her identity to anyone outside of the village; she’d spent seventeen years learning to access her sealing power, one hundred using it to hold back Calamity Ganon, and absolutely zero learning about governing, economics, trade, or anything else required to be an effective leader. To announce herself to the rest of the world would be to invite a level of expectation and scrutiny that the princess was not ready for. Waiting until she was ready to assume responsibility was a good idea. She just hadn’t expected to be recognized.

But then man continued, “I always knew you were too good-looking ‘a guy to not have a girlfriend.”

The hero and the princess turned matching shades of red.

Link sputtered out a half-explanation, tripping over every other word trying to deny the man’s assumption without revealing her identity. Zelda wondered if, maybe, just coming out with who she was would have been the better alternative, after all.

The man laughed, “No need to explain yourself to me, I understand,” he winked at Link, who now so red he could have passed as a Zora. The man turned to Zelda and asked, “What’s your name, miss?”

She hesitated, “I’m… Zelda.”

“Zelda? Like the old princess? Your parents musta had high hopes for you.”

They certainly had.

“Well, welcome to Hateno, Miss Zelda. Any friend of Link’s is a friend of ours here,” he said. “Which reminds me, Link, you’d better go say hi to Nebb. I swear he’s stopped by every day this week to ask if I’d seen you around.”

Link nodded with a nervous smile, blush still tinting his cheeks.

Zelda followed him as he dismounted, leading the horses up the hill into town. He kept his eyes straight ahead, almost as if he was too embarrassed to look back at her.

Was it really such an insult to assume they were an item?

Hoping to relieve the awkward tension, Zelda asked, “Who’s Nebb?”

“Ah,” Link said, “he’s—”

“Mister Link!”

A barefoot little boy ran towards them, nearly crashing into Link in his excitement. He was followed closely by a little girl, who by the looks of it, must have been his sister.

“ _This_ is Nebb,” Link told her, before crouching down to the boy’s level. The voice he used with children was different, Zelda had noticed. He was always brighter, less dead-pan, when speaking to a child. “Hi buddy, how’ve you been?” he asked.

“ _Bored_ ,” said Nebb, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Did you bring it? Did you?”

Link reached into his seemingly infinite pouch, “Hmmm, let’s see if I remember… ah yes, here it is!” He produced a short, intricately carved stick from the depths of his bag. With a short flick of his wrist, the length of it lit up, producing a familiar blue blade of light that Zelda recognized instantly.

When Nebb shouted in excitement, she was there right along with him.

“That’s amazing! It looks just like the one in the book!” he yelled, jumping up and down.

Zelda knelt down to get a closer look, “Where did you get that?”

“Robbie made it, actually,” Link said with a big grin. “He’s got some other stuff you should see too.”

“Can I see it?” she asked.

Link nodded, turning it around to hand it over with the hilt pointed towards her.

“No fair!” Nebb cried. “You never let _me_ hold them!”

“She’s a grown-up,” Link chided in that same voice. “When you get big you can hold them too.”

The sword was lighter than she expected, no doubt due to the absence of an actual metal blade. Its appearance was similar to the ancient swords they’d dug up with some of the smaller guardians, but structurally it was a vast improvement. The guard on the dull side offered more support, and it seemed sturdier and easier to handle than most of the ancient weapons.

Robbie had truly outdone himself. If the “other stuff” he had was anything like this, she would have to pay him a visit sooner rather than later.

“Hey Miss, you like weapons too?” the boy—Nebb--asked.

Zelda blinked down at him, “Oh, well not particularly, but… this one is special,” she said. “It seems to make use of ancient technology, it’s really quite remarkable.”

Nebb tilted his head, “I don’t get it.”

“Well, you see, a very, _very_ long time ago—”

“I've never seen you before. How do you know Mister Link? Is he your boyfriend?”

And _that_ would be the second person in almost as many minutes to make that assumption.

“Uh… no,” Zelda said. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the tips of Link’s ears turning red even as he covered his face with his hands. “He’s not.”

“Well why not? He’s cool, innit?”

“He’s not _that_ cool,” Nebb’s little sister spoke up. “You just think so ‘cause he brings you stupid swords all the time.”

“They’re not _stupid_ \--”

“ _Well anyway_ ,” Link stood up suddenly, “We’ve got things to do, people to see, and your mum’s probably looking for the two of you, so... y’know.” He collected the reigns of both horses in his hands, “We’re going, right, Pri—uhhh… Z… Zelda?”

Her name left his lips as if he had trouble saying it, and it occurred to her that he never _had_ before. Not like that, not without her title in front of it. It was too casual, too familiar—a knight did not call his princess by her name alone. Only her father, and Urbosa on occasion, had ever simply called her “Zelda.” To everyone else, Link included, she was “Princess,” or “Your Highness.” The implications brought a fresh heat to the princess’s face.

She _liked_ it. She liked the way her name sounded in his voice. He had stuttered it, tripped over it as if he were expecting to be struck down where he stood for daring to drop her title. But perhaps in a different context… would he say it differently?

No, those were dangerous thoughts.

“Hey wait!” Nebb cried after them. “You’re still gonna be here tomorrow, right?”

Link shot a glance at Zelda before answering, “Probably… why?”

“Tomorrow’s the festival! And, and, there’s a sword fighting competition every year,” said Nebb. “I’m still not allowed to do it, but you’re big! You could!”

_That_ sounded like something right up Link’s alley, the princess thought. She turned to encourage him, expecting to see a glint of excitement in his eyes… and instead found him looking almost troubled.

“I guess I could,” Link said. “We’ll see, tomorrow.”

“You better!” Nebb said. “See you later Mister Link!”

The children ran off. Zelda followed Link in the opposite direction, staying hot on his heels.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic,” she commented. “Are you not going to enter?”

“No… I probably will. He seemed like he really wanted to see me do it, and I’d hate to disappoint him…” Link’s voice trailed off.

“…but?” she pried.

Quietly, as if to himself, Link said, “I don’t know if I remember how to fight someone who isn’t trying to kill me.”

He led her and the horses up a hill, past a trio of interesting, cube-shaped homes to a bridge so narrow they had to walk the horses across it single file. On the other end of the bridge stood an old stone house. A large tree provided shade to the left of it, a small cooking pot at its base. Link took both the horses once they reached the end of the bridge and led them around to a pair of small stalls on the side of the house.

Zelda looked around as Link tied the horses. The yard was well-kept, trees and wild flowers planted next to the horse stalls. A small pond was behind them, shaded by the branches of another large tree that stood over it, and another tree behind the house held a crop of bright red apples in its branches. Before the Calamity, when Zelda had been so frustrated with her duties and dreamed of being a regular girl, a house like this would have been exactly what she wanted.

“You’ve been doing pretty well for yourself, haven’t you?” she said.

Link scratched the back of his neck, “It’s hardly a castle, but it’s nice.”

_No,_ Zelda thought, _it’s much better._

Instead, she asked, “May I see the inside?”

Link nodded, opening the front door for her. The house was essentially one room, an open first floor with a few modest pieces of furniture and a bedroom on the second-floor loft above it. A thin layer of dust covered everything, but otherwise it was almost _too_ tidy--a sure sign of a chronically absent owner. The princess’s eyes, however, were immediately drawn to the decoration. Three walls were dominated by weapon displays: Revali’s bow. Mipha’s spear. Daruk’s club. Urbosa’s sword and shield.

Zelda approached them as if in a trance, her fingers gently running over each of the champions old weapons one by one, coming to a stop in front of Urbosa’s scimitar. She had only seen it without its scabbard a few times; Urbosa had been fiercely protective, careful to not only keep her safe from violence, but from witness to it. Her mind replayed a memory of the night she’d gone to receive Urbosa’s agreement to pilot Vah Naboris. Even when fighting assassins from the Yiga Clan, she had the control to avoid drawning a single drop of blood, only jabbed the one with the blunt hilt and given the other a shock to drive them away.

_“Out of respect for our Princess, you may keep your lives.”_

She still wondered what Urbosa would have done had she not been there to witness it.

Grief took the princess then. Their weapons resting here on the wall rather than in the hands of their Champions drove the point home: they were gone, truly gone. She would never again hear Daruk’s hearty laugh, Revali’s proud preening, Mipha’s soft voice. Never again would Urbosa call her “little bird.” Defeating Ganon had not brought them back, no matter how desperately Zelda wished it had. If only she could speak to Urbosa one last time. If only she could apologize to them all for being unable to stop Ganon until it was too late…

She must have spent too long gazing at the scimitar, for Link’s reflection joined hers in the blade’s polished face.

“She wanted me to tell you,” he said, “that this is the way it had to happen. She wanted you to know that it’s not your fault… and that she’s proud of you.”

The princess felt her heart rise into her throat. Of course Urbosa would say that. She had never blamed Zelda for anything, always been proud of her despite having so little to be proud of. Like a mother. Just because Urbosa believed that to be the case didn’t mean it was true. How could it _not_ be her fault? Who else was there to blame?

“And what did the others say?”

Link seemed to consider his next words carefully.

“…None of us blame you, Princess.”

_Us._

Zelda turned to look at him then. A spiderweb of old scars crawled up the right side of Link’s neck from underneath his tunic, disappeared behind his ear and at his hairline. Another crossed his left eyebrow, and those were just the ones Zelda could see. There had to be others, memoirs of suffering littering his body that the Shrine of Resurrection couldn’t erase. Some would be due to his own reckless nature, fights both old and new that he took on without due discretion. But the heinous pattern of burns from guardian lasers... she’d put those there.

Subconsciously, she reached out to touch them. Nothing would ever hurt him again, she decided. Not if she had anything to say about it.

“…Princess?”

As if burned, Zelda snatched her hand back, blush rising to the tips of her ears, “S-sorry, I was just thinking, I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask—”

Link looked at her expectantly.

“…Would you teach me how to fight?”

Unmasked surprise painted Link’s face.

It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but it was the first thing that had come to mind. Never mind how silly a thought it was. She was a princess, not a fighter, certainly not a born master of the art of battle like Link. Her role was spiritual, a vessel for the goddess, her place was not on the battlefield--the events of one-hundred years ago had at least taught her that much. The image of her wielding a sword was laughable, she wasn’t sure she could even _lift_ one.

So when Link replied, “Of course,” she was sure she must have heard wrong.

“What?” she said. “Really? You mean it? You’ll teach me?”

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?” he said. “I’m not sure I’ll be a very good teacher, but…”

He was agreeing. He was going to teach her to fight.

Zelda clasped both of his hands between her own, “Oh, Link, _thank you._ You’ll be a fantastic teacher, I’m sure. Remember when you helped me with my horse? My relationship with him improved within a single day, you’re _excellent._ ”

Link turned his gaze down, bashful, but he was smiling.

They left for Purah’s laboratory after lunch, following the road through town. If Zelda had thought Kakariko Village was lively, it had been _nothing_ compared to Hateno. There were people everywhere. Farmers tending to crops, shop keepers sweeping their front steps, women gossiping at the well, and _tons_ of children, racing around as fast as their legs could carry them. So little about Hyrule was exactly as she remembered it. The once bustling Castle Town had been all but reduced to ash, settlements across Hyrule Field devastated… but this little town at the edge of the continent was just as it had been one hundred years prior. Her people were more than surviving—they were _thriving_.

Preparations for the festival already seemed to be underway, though it wasn’t yet obvious what type of celebration it was meant to be. The decorations seemed to be rather generic: colorful flags hung between rooftops and over windows, streamers hanging from trees. In the center of town, a group of men were hard at work building a wooden structure, likely a stage.

“Do you have any idea what the celebration is for?” she asked Link, only to get a shrug in return. “Hmmm... it’s Autumn, isn’t it? Maybe the equinox?”

“Could be,” Link said.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. I must admit, I’m excited. I’ve missed festivals so much—not that I got to go to them so often before, but that just makes _this_ one more exciting. Do you think they’ll have music?”

Zelda rattled on as they followed the blue-lit lanterns up the hillside, and, as always, Link was content to listen. Every so often, someone would stop to greet Link, to introduce themselves to Zelda, and then go about their day. Much like Kakariko, it seemed as if every other villager had met Link before. The girl working the ranch about halfway up the hill even stopped him to give him a case of milk. For saving her flock of sheep once, she explained.

New wooden signs along the side of the road closer to the lab warned against trespassing and solicitation, their letters etched in messy handwriting that Zelda knew to belong to Purah. A large telescope perched atop the lab’s roof pointed westward into the distance, and a frog statue wearing a copy of Purah’s trademark glasses greeted them at the door.

“What’s with the signs?” Zelda wondered aloud. “She used to love showing this place off…”

“Ah, well… you’ll see,” Link said, almost with amusement. Zelda couldn’t even begin to guess what he meant.

No sooner had Link opened the door than a young girl came flying towards them, her white hair a blur as she crashed into Link with so much force that she nearly knocked him backwards into Zelda.

“Linky!! You did it!” the girl cried. “Symin and I were watching from the telescope on the roof—you really showed that big pig who’s boss!” Before Link could so much as get a word in, she had grabbed the lobe of his ear and pulled him down to her height, “That was over a _week_ ago! What took you so long to come see me again?”

Now that she’d stopped moving, Zelda finally got a good look at the girl. She couldn’t be more than six years old, but her hair was stark white and thrown up in a big bun sitting on top of her little head—clearly Sheikah. She was also wearing makeup, which struck Zelda as odd for a girl her age, until her eyes landed on the big round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

It _couldn’t_ be…

“P… Purah?”

The girl released Link’s ear to throw a pair of hand signs up at Zelda, “Hehe, check it! Hi Princess! You haven’t changed a bit!”

“I…” Zelda balked at the little girl standing in front of her, “I can’t say the same, what _happened_?”

She had mentally prepared herself for Purah to look different from how she remembered, but she had expected her to be _old,_ like Impa. She’d expected to be once again hit with a painful reminder of how much time had passed. Instead, it was as if time had moved in reverse.

Purah waved her off, “Experiment gone wrong, don’t worry about—oh! That reminds me! Look at this!” she hopped over to present a pair of etched marks on the door frame. “Symin’s been measuring me, this is how tall I was last time you were here, Linky, and _this_ is how tall I was a couple days ago. You know what that means?”

“You’re… growing,” Link deadpanned. Zelda noted that he didn’t seem to use the same voice with her has he did with proper children. She wondered if Purah had beaten that out of him, or if he remembered her better than he let on.

“ _Ding ding ding_! But more importantly, I am no longer _shrinking_! The anti-aging process is _officially_ over!” she threw her hands in the air in celebration.

“Anti-aging…?” Zelda asked.

Purah tapped one finger against her chin, “Mmhmm, just another one of my genius ideas that was a _bit_ ahead of its time, maybe. It’s really not that interesting, Princess.”

“I thought it was interesting,” Link piped up.

“Because _you_ don’t know how to keep your nose out of other peoples’ private business!” Purah wagged one small finger at him furiously.

The sight of Link being scolded by a child was almost comical. Zelda barely contained her laughter to spare Purah’s dignity.

“Anyway, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again, Princess,” said Purah. “There’s hardly anyone left these days who remembers me in my prime.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Purah. I missed you so much…” Zelda said. “You’ve done incredible work on the Sheikah Slate in the last hundred years, it hardly seems to be the same device. The new runes are so useful.”

Purah giggled, “Hehehe, thank you! I knew _you_ would appreciate it. Let me show you how I managed to unlock them…”

Purah proceeded to give Zelda the full tour. Truth be told, not much had changed about the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab in the past hundred years. It was still a complete mess, littered with papers and guardian parts in a reflection of its director’s disorganized genius—except for one corner, occupied by her new assistant Symin, whom the princess was also introduced to. Symin’s corner of the lab was neat and tidy, and the man himself was almost stoic next to Purah’s chaos. He had been responsible for discovering the dowsing function in the Sheikah Slate’s compendium, which he demonstrated to Zelda with the pride of a father showing off pictures of his children.

The biggest difference was the guidance stone installed in an alcove near the front door. Purah took her outside to show her the furnace that powered it and pointed out the source of the blue flame down at the foot of the hills. She explained how she used it to restore the Sheikah Slate to full functionality, stopping to answer Zelda’s questions whenever she had them. It reminded Zelda so much of the old days, when she’d spent hours with Purah and Robbie against her father’s wishes, studying the ancient technology until night fell and she was forced to return to the castle. Just as she had back then, the princess found herself losing track of time.

“Were you planning to stay for dinner, Princess?” Purah asked. “Symin isn’t good for much, but he is a pretty decent cook.”

“Thank you, Director, I believe that’s one of the kindest things you’ve ever said about me,” said Symin, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

“Oh, if you wouldn’t mind having us, we’d love to,” Zelda said. “I’m sure Link would appreciate a night off from…”

That was when Zelda finally noticed that Link had not been following her around the lab like a shadow for the past several hours. Instead, he was sitting at the table, slumped over with his head pillowed in his arms, fast asleep. No small wonder, considering he hadn’t slept the night before. It hadn’t been a question of if he would pass out, but when.

Purah followed her gaze, and snorted, “How long has he been like that?”

“Hm, two or three hours now, I think,” Symin replied. “Around the time you went outside to see the furnace.”

“Well, wake him up, he’s drooling all over my papers—”

“No, no, Purah, please,” Zelda intervened, “Please leave him be… I’m afraid he didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Purah looked between them for a moment—narrowed, calculating eyes bouncing back and forth between the princess and her sleeping knight.

“Remember how much you used to hate him?” she asked.

“I never _hated_ him—”

“No? I didn’t realize one hundred years in stasis had affected _your_ memory as well, interesting…” Purah pushed up her glasses. “Although I suppose there’s not much I can do with that information—divine powers aren’t exactly my area of expertise…”

“I _never_ hated him,” Zelda repeated. “I was… jealous, irritated for sure, but...”

Zelda regretted every sour thought she’d had about the boy chosen by the sword. Despite how he had closed himself off to others, he’d never been cold, just quiet. As soon as he’d opened up to her, shown her who he truly was, she’d been lost. There was not a soul in Hyrule more benevolent than his. Despite all the struggle he’d been through, the anxiety that plagued him, he was kind, fiercely loyal, and, when he wanted to be, funny. Seeing him in this moment especially, deep in slumber, his expression so soft and full of rare peace, made the princess’s heart swell. If only he could be so at peace all the time.

“Oh no,” Purah said suddenly, “you’re reminding me of Impa.”

Confusion painted Zelda’s face, “How so?”

“Terrible taste in men.”

For no less than the third or fourth time that day, heat rose to Zelda’s face, “I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Purah asked. “I might _look_ youthful and naïve, but I’m over 120 years old, remember? I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, Princess, and I’d recognize that look you give him if I were _blind_.”

“What look? I wasn’t giving him any look—”

“Like he put the stars in the sky? Like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, even with his face pressed into a puddle of drool on my _important research documents—”_

“Shhhhh! N-no, y-you’re misinterpreting things,” Zelda stuttered.

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

Purah quirked an eyebrow, “If you say so.” She hummed thoughtfully, “Not to change the subject so suddenly, but what’s your plan, Princess? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“My plan...?”

“You know, now that Ganon is kapooey.”

Zelda sighed, “Honestly, I don’t know. Impa doesn’t think I should come out with my identity just yet. I think I agree. I’d like to visit the champions’ relations, to offer my condolences and allegiance, but other than that...”

Purah listened quietly.

“...I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know anything about running a kingdom, Purah. These people have been living one-hundred years without a sole ruler, why would they accept one now? Especially someone like me...”

“Someone like you? You mean like someone who saved their butts for the last few generations by keeping a tight lid on bacon breath over there?”

Zelda didn’t reply.

“It’s up to you. I think they’d welcome you back with open arms. Hyrule misses its Princess,” Purah said. “Or, you know, you _could_ always just stay here and be my apprentice. Be a regular girl. I mean, I miss the royal funding, but I’ve made it this long without that money coming in, and if you would be happier...”

_That_ was a tempting idea. Too tempting. To spend the rest of her days in research, living peacefully among the people without a care for politics or the expectations of others. But could it really be that easy? Would that not be akin to turning her back on her kingdom? How could it be, if there was nothing left of her kingdom anyway? Purah had said it herself: she’d made it this long without royal funding, the rest of the land had made it this far without a sovereign central power. They no longer needed protection from Ganon or the Guardians, and even the regular monsters would start to dwindle in number without Ganon’s influence resurrecting them every blood moon. This peace could easily last until the end of Zelda’s natural life.

But what then? How much of Hyrule’s history, how much of what had happened thus far could be forgotten if she did not try to revive it? How would they pass on warnings of Calmity Ganon, of what didn’t work, to not try the same thing twice, to future generations? The cycle would repeat. It always did. And even if it didn’t, power vacuums could be just as dangerous. _Someone,_ if not her, would take advantage of the new peace and rise up to take power for themselves. Maybe they would be a better leader than she could have been. Maybe they would be worse. There could be a civil war, a power struggle, any number of terrible things could happen if she didn’t take her throne. If she could do something to prevent more death and suffering, and she didn’t, would that not make her complicit in it? Would that not solidify her position in history as Hyrule’s most hateful princess?

“Alright, alright, sorry I asked. Stop thinking so hard,” Purah said suddenly. “You don’t have to solve all of Hyrule’s problems tonight, Princess. You’ve got the rest of your life for that.”

With that, Purah pushed her outside to the cooking pot to help Symin with dinner. It was a clear night, and when Zelda looked out over the countryside, she could see dozens of blue lights flickering from the lanterns that dotted the landscape. An owl hooted from somewhere in the woods at the bottom of the cliff. Cold winds from the mountains to the north caused the princess to pull her robes up tight against her neck. Symin waved her over to the fire where it was warmer, distracted her with idle talk of research and cooking.

Purah was right—she had all the time in the world.

 

***

“I am _not_ sleeping in your bed.”

Link was busy rolling out a spare futon next to the staircase. “Well someone should, and it’s not going to be me.”

The princess huffed, “If you think I’m going to allow you to sleep on the floor in your _own home_ —"

“It’s my floor, I’ll sleep on it if I want to,” Link said stubbornly.

“You’re _impossible_.”

In the end, Link won out. The princess took his bed, and he slept on the floor downstairs, under the staircase. It took her awhile to settle, if the sound of footsteps above his head told him anything, but soon it was as quiet as always. The princess didn’t snore. Of course she didn’t.

This little house on the edge of the world was, perhaps, the one place Link truly felt safe. It was cozy and unassuming. The door locked solidly. There was only one entrance and exit. It was untouched by Ganon, safe from monsters and the Yiga Clan alike. On top of everything, something about it, for some reason Link couldn’t exactly explain, felt like _home_. He never slept better than within these four walls.

Yet tonight, whether because of the embarrassingly long nap he’d taken at the lab earlier or otherwise, Link found himself unable to fall asleep. He lay awake on the floor, staring across the room at the moonlight shining through the windows and reflecting off the weapons on the wall, listening to the sounds of crickets and his own breathing. He thought about the Champions then, as he tended to when left alone with his thoughts for too long. They had all been good people. Even Revali, pompous and full of himself as he was, hadn’t had anything bad to say about him or the princess after being trapped inside Medoh for a century. He knew Urbosa was right, that no one need carry blame for all that had happened. But every time he saw their weapons on his wall, Link felt guilty.

The guilt was part of what drove him to put them on display in the first place. When Link had first woken up on the Great Plateau, when he’d first heard of the Champions and the princess, he’d felt nothing. There had been no guilt, no sorrow, no sense of loss, no feeling at all until he started to remember. It had come in gradually at first, in bits and pieces as he began to unlock his old memories.

Then he visited the Zora’s Domain.

The guilt he’d felt when he looked at the statue of Mipha in the square was insurmountable. The elders had been right to blame him for her death. The fact that King Dorephan and Prince Sidon did not was unbelievable. Link had loved her, once, as she had loved him. He wasn’t sure if he still did. But the guilt, the gaping hole her death left in his chest, that he still felt. It hurt. It hurt more than any battle wound he’d ever sustained. And it didn’t heal. Link didn’t want it to. He wanted to feel, even if it was painful. It meant he remembered. It meant he’d had something worth remembering.

It was the same reason he’d taken Ayrll’s doll and kept it on his hip. Even if it hurt, he needed to remember. He _needed_ to feel guilty.

Link was surrounding himself with ghosts.

He’d lied to the princess that morning. He _had_ blamed her, for that one terrible moment in the ashes of Castle Town. The darkest parts of him still did. But she didn’t need to know that. It had been a moment of weakness, and he hated himself for it. She was the only thing he had left, the only person he had who was more than a ghost. He couldn’t afford to blame her for something that was, ultimately, out of her control.

He brought his hand up to the side of his face where she’d touched him. Her hand had been warm, soft, so real and _alive_ … and then it had disappeared just as quickly. He’d wanted it back the moment it had left. Link imagined her hand following his scars downwards, across his neck and chest to where the spiderwebs ended at his right hipbone, her fingers burning his skin again as they went—

Link buried his face in his pillow and groaned. _Bad_. _No. Absolutely **not**_ **.** Stab him through the head with a rusty sword if he was going to start thinking things like _that_.

That so many people had assumed she was his _girlfriend_ today was mind blowing. What world was everyone living in, where a girl as intelligent and beautiful as Princess Zelda would be romantically involved with a boy as stupid and broken as Link? She cared for him, as he did for her, but that was as deep as it went. He’d be doing himself no favors by getting his hopes up.

And yet…

Link thought back to the song Kass had sung for him last time he visited him in Rito Village.

_The princess's love for her fallen knight awakens her power_

_And within the castle the Calamity is forced to cower._

That line had played through his head on loop since he’d first heard it. He’d convinced himself it was an exaggeration, romanticized for the sake of art. The court poet who’d written it had been struck with his own infatuation with the princess, hardly an unbiased source. The real story, of how the princess had initially hated him, had gone out of her way to avoid him, wouldn’t make for nearly as romantic of a song, after all.

But if it was true…

If it was true, then surely she would have said something by now. They’d spent nearly every moment together for the last few weeks. If she’d loved him like that for all these years, she would have said as much by now. All she _had_ said was that he was different. Maybe he was _too_ different. Maybe she _had_ loved the man he was back then… that didn’t mean she would love the man he was now. Back then he’d been a gentleman, well-educated, well-mannered, respectable. Now he was… a mess. A wild boy more used to eating with his hands and sleeping under the stars than to the refinements and regiments of court life. He didn’t remember how to be anything else. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, not even for Princess Zelda’s sake.

These thoughts swirled around in Link’s head until finally, mercifully, he fell asleep.


	6. Memory 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link gets stuck in his own head. Zelda gets frustrated.

Link awoke to the sound of the door creaking open, and a woman’s voice.

” _Oh Hylia,_ ” she said, her voice hushed, “you nearly scared me half to _death_.”

“I’m sorry, love,” a man’s voice, just as hushed. The sound of footsteps and rustling fabric.

Link rolled over, tried to get a look in the direction of their voices, but the house was pitch black. There wasn’t even any moonlight to bleed through the windows. Their voices were all he had to go on. They were strikingly familiar, yet unrecognizable.

“You’re home early,” the woman whispered. “I thought you said you’d be back tomorrow night?”

“I thought I was going to spend last night at an inn in Gatepost Town,” the man said, “but I couldn’t sleep a wink, so I traveled all night instead. I just… I wanted to get home to the two of you as soon as possible.”

The woman sighed, “It was that bad then, was it?”

“Terrible,” the man said, “I’ve never seen His Majesty so solemn before.”

“It’s no wonder, she was so young… I still can’t believe it. I keep thinking about the princess; she’s barely older than Link, yet she’s already lost her mother…”

“A little soldier, that one. She didn’t cry, not a single tear.”

“Oh, that’s almost _worse_. I wonder if she even understands…” the woman said, pain seeping into her voice. “I don’t think Link does. He wouldn’t stop complaining this morning when I was getting him dressed—he doesn’t like the black tunic, says it’s itchy.”

“He asleep now?”

“We _both_ were, until you got home,” the woman said.

“Sorry again, love,” a pause. “Go back to bed, I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Don’t you dare wake him up,” she warned. “It was _painful_ getting him to sleep tonight. If he sees you’re home early he'll _never_ go back to bed.”

The man chuckled softly, “I won’t, I promise.”

A soft _smack_ of lips in the darkness, then two sets of footsteps—one up the stairs, the other, heavier, approaching Link’s bed. He lay still, pretending to be asleep, as a large hand gently pet his hair.

“Goodnight, son,” the man whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

 

\---

Link jolted awake. His eyes took their time adjusting to the darkness, but slowly his surroundings came into view. He was at home, on the first floor by the stairs. He could hear someone’s slow, steady breathing from the loft above him. The moonlight had shifted on the wall since he’d last seen it—he must have been asleep for a couple of hours. 

He flopped back down onto his futon with a sigh. He’d never had a memory come to him in his _sleep_ before. Maybe it hadn’t been a memory at all, just an attempt of his subconscious to give him something he longed for. He knew he’d had parents. _Everyone_ had parents. The princess had specifically mentioned his father at least once in what few memories he had. They were gone now, but for some reason, the sting of that knowledge hurt less than his memories of Ayrll, like the phantom pain of an old scar rather than the opening of a new wound.

He rolled onto his side and reached over the edge of the bed into his pack, drawing out the little doll. His sister’s face flashed through his mind—big blue eyes under blunt bangs. He wondered if she looked like their mother, if he looked like his father. He wished he could remember.

 

***

In the morning, Hateno Village was almost a different place. Vendors had moved into the streets, displaying their wares in stalls on the side of the main road. Performers and musicians drew small crowds and buildings were decorated with brightly-colored flags and banners. Zelda felt as if she were walking on air. Attendance was nothing compared to the festivals that had been held in Castle Town that had drawn people from all corners of Hyrule, but it was just as jovial and high-spirited. After all these years, people were still finding reasons to celebrate. 

“You’re a little old to be dressed like that, aren’t you?”

A merchant had called out to Link, a good-natured smile on her face as she poked fun at him. Link looked down at his simple trousers and blue tunic, confused. That was when Zelda noticed the children: little boys in blue tunics and little girls in white dresses dashed through the streets, some of them holding sweets or toy swords. The blue was a slightly off, a bit paler than the blue dye she’d used in the champions’ garments, but the symbolism was unmistakable. She nudged Link, bringing his attention to them. The recognition hit his face in an instant.

“Attention, everyone!”

A lithe, bearded man was standing on a raised platform in the middle of the commotion, “Good morning! Welcome to the 101st annual Hero’s Festival! As you all know, we hold this festival each year, on the anniversary of the Battle at Fort Hateno, in remembrance—and celebration--of those lost protecting our fair village from the Great Calamity. Today is a day of reflection, but also a day of joy. So please, whether you call Hateno home or are just passing through, I hope you enjoy all our festival has to offer.”

The crowd erupted into applause around them. With the conclusion of the speech, they began to disperse, leaving Link and Zelda standing alone in the middle of the street. The princess was overcome with emotion. Not only were her people prospering... they remembered. They were thankful.

Link’s voice broke Zelda out of her thoughts, “Happy birthday, Princess.”

_That_ hadn’t even occurred to her. “Oh... I suppose it is.”

Zelda had never enjoyed her birthday. For so long, it was just a reminder that yet another year had passed without success in unlocking her power. It had never been a happy day, and as such she wasn’t particularly upset that it now happened to mark the anniversary of the worst day or her life. But whether they knew it or not, her people had turned it into a festival. It gave her hope--not just for her kingdom, but for herself.

She wondered what to call this one. Her eighteenth? Her hundred-and-eighteenth? Did birthdays really count when you spent them trapped in limbo between the divine and the mortal?

“When’s yours?” she asked Link. “We should celebrate it, when it comes around.”

He opened his mouth as if to answer, only to shut it just as quickly. A fresh wave of pity overcame the princess. Yet another thing lost to the Calamity.

“There must be mention of it somewhere,” she tried to assure him. “All kinds of records were kept in the castle. We’ll find it, Link.”

Link began to shrug, but stopped mid-motion. “Princess,” he said, “do you think there might also be—"

“Fancy seeing you two here! Glad you’re getting out and enjoying yourselves!” Symin approached them, waving as he squeezed awkwardly through the crowd.

“Oh, Dr. Symin, good morning,” Zelda said. “It’s lovely, really. I’m so happy to see there are still celebrations like this.” She noticed, then, that he was alone. “Is Dr. Purah not with you?”

“Ah, no, you see, because of the Director’s... er... condition, she refuses to leave the laboratory,” said Symin. “But she sends me down here every year to get her a candied apple, so that’s what brings me here today.”

Zelda’s ears perked up at the mention of the sweet treat, “They have candied apples?”

Symin laughed, “Oh yes, the Director told me you’ve got quite the sweet tooth, Princess. Shall we see if we can find them? If I remember correctly, they usually set up their stall somewhere around here...”

Eager, Zelda followed him through the crowd without hesitation. She could practically taste the caramel on her tongue already. In one hundred years of holding back Ganon, she had felt surprisingly little desire for worldly things. She had wanted her freedom, she had wanted to see Link again, but she had been little more than a divine vessel. The Goddess did not need to eat, had no reason to want for the material comforts. Now, with her humanity returned to her, Princess Zelda _craved_ them.

Weaving through the crowd, Zelda was surrounded by smells and sounds she thought she’d never hear again: savory meat skewers, baked breads and pastries, music from a band lost somewhere among the bustle. Oh, how she’d missed _music_. As Princess, she had witnessed every Castle Town festival from the day she was born, but it was always from a distance, placed on a pedestal high above the action, where she would be “safe.”

Only once, in her eighth or ninth year, had she snuck out of the castle with Impa to attend a carnival in the Central Square. That they were not caught could only be attributed to Impa’s cunning mind. Zelda had always envied the way the older girl, daughter of a royal advisor before becoming one herself, was able to come and go as she pleased. And Impa was always willing to help Zelda push against the walls that held her in. She knew the layout of the Castle Town, and she had a knack for leadership and a silver tongue--all things Zelda lacked. It had been her idea to dress Zelda in some of her own clothes, to wrap her hair up in a bun and hide it under a large woven hat. To anyone who passed them in town, they would appear to be two regular Sheikah girls out enjoying the festival. No one suspected that one of them might be the princess.

That one hundred years later she would find herself in nearly the same situation—in borrowed Sheikah clothes at a crowded festival where no one knew her true identity—brought back feelings of nostalgia.

The candied apple stand was indeed where Symin had remembered it to be. It had an immense variety, apples coated in caramel, in chocolate, some sprinkled with chopped nuts and others with powdered sugar or cinnamon. Zelda picked out one with caramel and cinnamon and handed over a blue rupee in exchange. The first bite was heaven. It was almost unbearably sweet, the caramel sticking hard to her teeth.

Symin had only just finished his own transaction when they were approached by the same man who had spoken on the platform earlier, “Dr. Symin, long time no see. Is the director well? I’m told no one has seen her in a while.”

“Ah, Chief Reede, good to see you. Yes, the Director is in perfect health, but her knees just aren’t what they used to be, I’m afraid,” Symin said easily, practiced. “I’m just stopping down to get her an apple, actually.”

“I’m impressed she can still bite into them at her age. Lately I’ve been afraid I’m going to lose one of _my_ teeth in something like this,” he laughed. “By the way, who might this young lady be?” he gestured to Zelda.

It appeared Symin did not have a lie so easily prepared for the princess, “Well, um, this is--”

“My name is Zelda, I’m... starting an apprenticeship, under Dr. Purah,” Zelda said.

The chief raised his bushy eyebrows, “What a coincidence, Dr. Purah used to tell me about how the old _Princess_ Zelda would study under her... it must be fate that you should be her new apprentice.”

Zelda laughed nervously, “Is that so? How… mysterious.”

He studied her for a moment, and Zelda got the unnerving feeling that he was seeing right through her. “Well, I’m pleased to welcome you to Hateno, Miss Zelda. It’s always good to have more young people around--you young people are our future after all,” he said. “How did you find out about Dr. Purah’s apprenticeship? I hadn’t heard she was looking for one.”

“Oh, well, um, my...” Zelda grasped, “...my friend, Link, introduced me. I think you’ve probably met him, he owns a house up on the edge of town, right, Link?”

The princess turned to find she had been gesturing to the empty space next to her.

“...Where did he go?”

 

***

Nebb had found Link while the princess was speaking with Symin.

“Hey! There you are!” the boy said, tugging on Link’s sleeve.

He, too, was dressed in a bright blue tunic, only a few shades separated from Link’s own. A child-sized sword was strapped to his back, and Link was struck with a distant feeling of familiarity, as if looking through a foggy window to another time. But before Link could get a handle on the feeling, Nebb was pulling his arm frantically, “The competition’s about to start! You’re gonna miss the sign-up window! Hurry!”

Right, the sword fighting competition. The one Nebb had told him about yesterday. That he’d said he would enter. That he was now, definitely, going to enter, whether he wanted to or not. He turned to tell the princess, only to find she was already walking away with Symin.

“W-wait, P--” damn it, “Z-Zelda, wait--”

“Come _on!”_ for a little boy, Nebb made an impressive effort to tear Link’s left arm out of its socket. “Let’s go!”

Link could have refused. Nebb was a child, Link was stronger, perfectly capable of standing his ground under the physical persuasion of an eight-year-old. But for some reason that he had yet to understand, Nebb looked up to him. Link loathed to let him down.   

The princess would be fine, he reasoned. Hateno was safe. No one here had any motivation to cause her harm. She was with Symin. She had the protection of anonymity. Besides, she was going to get tired of him following her everywhere eventually. Just because _Link_ apparently had some new abandonment issues to deal with didn’t mean the princess would want him on her every step any more than she did before the Calamity.

Come to think of it, he probably needed her more than she needed him. The thought stung a little.

Nebb practically dragged Link over to where a group of people crowded around a fenced-in area. At the fence gate sat the same young man who usually guarded the town’s front gate—Thadd, if Link remembered correctly. He raised one eyebrow at Link as they approached.

“Where’s your girlfriend, pal? Didn’t want to come see you fight?” he asked.

“She’s not...” Link blushed, “...no, she didn’t.”

Thadd gave a little tut, “Too bad. Well hey, you’re just in time--I was just about to close sign up. Write your name on the list here, I’ll get you a sword.”

Link scrawled his name on the yellowing parchment on the table while Nebb watched him, eyes sparkling, expectant. Thadd returned shortly and presented him with a dull wooden sword.

“Standard issue,” he explained. “Oh and uh, you’ll have to check that pretty bit here at the gate. Rules, y’know?”

Understanding washing over him, Link gripped the holster crossing his chest hesitantly.

“Hey, relax, I’ll be watching it the whole time, no one’s gonna put a finger on it on my watch,” Thadd assured him.

It was almost painful to detach the Master Sword from his back and hand it over. Link thought again about the ultimatum Fi had given him, about how they’d have to part for good eventually. His fingers waited a bit too long to release it into Thadd’s hands.

Thadd whistled once he finally had the sword in his grasp, “Wow, no wonder you’re so protective—this is a real beauty. Where’d you find a sword like this?”

Link answered with a shrug.

Wooden sword in hand, he followed Thadd’s directions to take his place in line with the other contestants. Some of them Link knew he had seen before, others he wasn’t so sure. It was a good mix: men and women, young and old, all of them in high spirits. Link felt out of place among them. The air was chillier than usual with the coming autumn, and still he could feel sweat collecting on his palms. He passed the sword between his hands to remove his right glove and wipe it off on the leg of his trousers.

Seeming to notice him fidgeting, a young man Link didn’t recognize called out to him, “First time?”

Sheepishly, Link nodded.

“Don’t worry, it’s all in good fun. Just relax,” he said. “It’s not like anything bad is going to happen if you lose.”

Link was far more worried he was going to _win_.

The first contestants were called up then, and the competition began. Spectators shouted, cheered for their friends or family from the sidelines. The competitors traded blows, blocked and dodged and danced their way around the ring, until eventually one of them was either disarmed or pinned, and the winner moved on to the next round. When the swords made contact with their targets, if at all, they didn’t draw blood. At the end of a match, the winner and loser would shake hands again, and send each other off with friendly smiles. Friendly combat. A fight without danger. A familiar feeling scratched at the back of Link’s mind, struggled to rise above the anxiety.

Before he knew it, his own name was called, and Link found himself standing in the ring across from a man, whom he was _pretty_ sure he knew to be town miller, the man who traded shifts with his wife watching the windmills on the east end of town. They’d spoken a few times; he was one of the few people in the village to go outside at night. Link couldn’t remember his name. The night they’d first met, Link had been feeling feisty, and had claimed to be a thief when he asked who he was. The man had just laughed at him, treated him as if he were a silly child playing pretend.

Which, he supposed, he had been.

“Alright gents, let’s have a fair fight,” the referee said. “You know the rules: no cheap shots, no hits below the belt or above the neck. Shake hands.”

The miller’s grip was firm. He smiled, “Link, right? May the best man win.”

Link couldn’t say anything, only did his best to return a smile. He tried to set his mind in order. This was a man, he told himself, a good man. A friendly fight. No danger. Just a man, with a glorified stick, who didn’t mean to cause him any harm.

And yet Link couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

“Turn around, and take ten paces,” the referee instructed. “When I blow my whistle, that’s your cue to begin.”

Link turned and counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Ten.

He could hear the referee take his breath before the shrill call of the whistle broke through the air. He turned back at the sound of it, and the match began.

For the first few moments they only circled each other, almost dancing. Link had already decided to wait him out, to let him make the first move. He found his footwork easily. His right hand gripped the wooden sword, gave it a practiced flip. Someone in the audience whistled. This _was_ familiar, but not in the way that Link had feared. Not a dangerous, clear familiarity of fights with adversaries and monsters, but a distant, foggy one. There was something there he couldn’t quite reach, something deep in his subconscious that remembered this, remembered when fighting was only a game.

He _needed_ that memory.

The man’s footwork changed almost imperceptibly. Link took note. In the next moment, when his sword came at him, Link blocked it with his shield. He didn’t strike back, couldn’t, not until he caught the memory that floated just out of his reach, afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. So, the dance continued. Strike, block. Strike, block. Strike, block.

“C’mon, lad,” the man said, his breathing becoming labored, “Give me a break. I'm not young enough to do this all day anymore.”

The next strike was high. Link parried this time, knocking the man back with the force of his shield. The resonating _clang_ of the sword bouncing off the metal shield rang through Link’s ears. His muscles reacted to the pattern of the action before his conscious mind could reign them in, going for the counter strike.

It landed, smack against the side of his opponent’s rib cage. The dull sword did nothing, drew no blood, and the man had found his footing again not a second later. Cheers erupted behind Link. The first successful hit. Some of the fog cleared. A friendly fight, blunt swords…

The miller laughed, “That’s it, son, nice hit! Enjoy it, because you won’t…”

Whatever he said next was lost to the fog.

 

\---

“That’s it, son, now you’ve got it!” a burly man, with a wide nose and strong jaw towered over Link. He would be intimidating, perhaps, were it not for the broad smile spread across his face. “ _Great_ job finding that opening. I think that might actually leave a bruise."

He rubbed at his side where Link’s blunt child’s sword has struck him just moments before. It was an act, meant to boost Link’s confidence, but at the time he hadn’t picked up on it. He giggled and bounced with excitement.

“You need to work on your control, though. You were supposed to stop just before you hit me, remember?”

Link’s energetic bounce switched to a sheepish sway, “I’m sorry, Papa.”

“It’s alright, you just need more practice. We’re going to be doing this with _real_ swords one of these…”

The clip-clop of hooves on the wooden bridge cut his sentence short. A young man, sitting astride a solid gray horse fitted with shining metal armor pulled up to the front of the house. His face was dotted with a mixed of pimples and freckles, and he was harried--only noticing them standing there off to the side moments before he raised his fist to knock on the door. His beret nearly slipped off his head at the speed with which he turned to close the distance between them.

“Sir!” he said, sounding out of breath. “I have a message for you, Sir, from the Castle.”

He handed Link’s father a deep blue envelope, lined with silver edges and closed with a brilliant gold seal. This, his father carefully peeled off before he unfolded the expensive paper and glanced at the header. “A summons?” he asked. “Has something happened?”

The young man removed his beret entirely then, held it to his chest and turned his eyes down, “I’m afraid it’s the Queen, Sir. Her Majesty has fallen gravely ill. The best doctors in the kingdom have been brought to her aid, but they fear there is not much time left. In fact… it is possible, since I left the castle just the day before last, that she has already left us…”

A silence passed between the two adults as Link’s father read the letter. Link looked between them inquisitively but did not interrupt. It was impolite to interrupt when adults were talking. He looked down at his bare feet, wiggled his toes in the grass. The sun was getting a bit warm. He wanted to take off his tunic.

“I understand,” his father said, folding the letter closed again. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The young man placed beret back on his head and bowed stiffly, “Thank you, Sir! I will report back to the Castle with your reply immediately.”

With that, the young man and his horse were off. Link followed his father back into the house, hot on his heels and bursting with questions. “Who was that man, Papa? Did you know him? What’s ‘gravely ill’ mean?”

His mother, who had been sitting at the table, looked up from her reading, startled, “Who’s gravely ill?”

Rather than answering, his father simply handed her the letter. Her blue eyes scanned it, brows drawing closer and closer together in worry with each pass over the paper. A long blonde braid draped over one shoulder, and she wore an apron that seemed to always be dusted with flour. The neighbors always told Link he looked just like her. His father would laugh and say it was a good thing Link had gotten her face instead of his. Link wasn’t sure what that meant.

She raised one hand to cover her own mouth as she finished reading. “Oh _no,_ how can this possibly be? She’s so _young_ …”

He shook his head, “The goddesses can be fickle. It’s not our place to question their plans.”

“How awful…” she handed the letter back to him. “I suppose you’re leaving tomorrow, then…”

Link tugged at the edge of his father’s shirt, more questions waiting on his lips.

“First thing,” he replied, ignoring Link’s pestering. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, it depends on…”

Link switched tactics, going instead for his mother’s free hand. Her skin cracked at her knuckles from the dry mountain air. There was dirt under her fingernails. He grabbed a handful of her apron, adding his own dirty hand prints to the mess.

Without even looking down at him, his mother gently pried Link’s hand off the apron and held it in her own. “I know, it’s okay. Just send a letter when you find out,” she said.

“Of course—”

Link had had enough of being ignored. “Where are you going?” he spoke up, loudly.  

His parents exchanged a meaningful glance, and his father dropped down on his knees to meet Link’s height. He placed one large, gloved hand on his shoulder, “Link, do you remember the last time you came to the Castle with me? You got to meet the King and Queen—remember?”

Link thought for a minute, then nodded, wide eyed. He’d spent most of the meeting hiding behind his father’s coattails. The King of Hyrule was massive, even bigger than his own father, and more intimidating than anyone Link had met before. The Queen had been rather quiet, but she’d looked at him with kind eyes that reminded him of his own mother’s.  

“Well,” his father continued, “Her Majesty has become very sick… and the doctors do not think she’ll ever get better. She’s dying, son. Soon she will this world. So, I have to go to the Castle to say goodbye.”

Death was still an unfamiliar concept to Link. A woman from the village had died last year, as his parents had explained when he asked why he hadn’t seen her lately. But she had been old, and dying was what happened when one was old. The Queen must have been older than she looked. “Can I come?” he asked.

His father smiled sadly, one large hand reaching out to ruffle his hair, “Not this time, son. I need you to stay here and take care of the house. Think you can do that?”

Link pouted, “I _guess_.”

“Good boy,” his father said. “It’s just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

\---

Reality snapped back into place just as the shield flew from Link’s grip, crashing into the fence and clattering to the ground. He barely dodged the following swing. Before he could even process it, his instincts kicked in, dropped him into a low roll and kicked his opponent’s feet out from under him. The next think Link heard was the solid _thud_ of the man’s body hitting the ground, followed by the shrill call of a whistle. 

“Augh, for the love of Hylia! What was that all about?” the man shouted.

“Illegal maneuvers!” the referee called. “Link is disqualified!”

Nebb’s voice rang out from somewhere behind him, “ _What_?! Nooooo!”

The crowd around them broke out in murmurs, all eyes on Link as he stood dumb in the middle of the ring. Right. He was in a contest. Or rather, he _had_ been, until he’d let his mind run away from him and left his body to run on instinct. Sheepishly, he extended one hand to help his opponent to his feet, only to have it smacked away.

“I can stand by myself,” the man grumbled. “Damn kids these days… no respect, none!” He stomped away with one hand rubbing his lower back.

If Link had been less distracted, he might have been more ashamed. As it was, he wordlessly left the ring, collected the Master Sword, and tried to find some place to be alone with his thoughts. Each time he blinked, he would see his parents’ faces.

Nebb was right on his tail the whole time, though, and as soon as Link found a place to sit against the wall, he was on him.

“What was _that_? You coulda had ‘im! And then you just—” the boy gesticulated wildly, “—stopped? You froze up! And he got your shield! And then—”

Link rubbed his temples, “Nebb, I think I hear your mother calling for you—”

Princess Zelda’s voice interrupted him, “ _There_ you are!” She was holding a pair of grilled meat and mushroom skewers, one that was already half-eaten. She offered him the untouched one. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I brought lunch. What have you been doing all morning?”

 

***

“What do you mean you _lost_?” Zelda asked, incredulous. “How did you _lose_?”

Link took another bite of his meat and mushroom skewer, covering the lower half of his face in a layer of sauce. He shrugged dismissively. Zelda scowled.

She’d found him sitting next to a crowd of spectators, getting an earful from the little boy from yesterday. If it weren’t for how upset Nebb had been, Zelda would have thought Link was pulling her leg when he told her he lost a sword fighting competition. _Link_ lost a sword fight. It was unthinkable, _impossible_ , that the boy who had only _just_ defeated Ganon could be bested in a battle with a civilian. Even if he had only been paying the most _marginal_ amount of attention, he should have won easily. Which, naturally, led Zelda to the deduction that Link hadn’t been paying attention at _all_. His mind had been elsewhere. His mind was _still_ elsewhere, if she wasn’t imagining that far-off look in his eyes.

“What was the name of the man who beat you?” she asked, trying to pull his attention back to the present. “Perhaps I should have _him_ teach me to fight instead, he’s obviously more skilled than you.”

“Hn, probably a good idea,” Link replied absently.

Zelda leaned over to snap her fingers in front of his face, “Hello? Are you hearing yourself? Is anyone home in there, Link?”

His eyes snapped back into focus with a blink, and _finally_ he looked at her, “I’m sorry, Princess, were you saying something?”

“I _knew_ you hadn’t been listening,” she said. “I asked how _you_ managed to lose a sword fighting competition.”

“Oh,” said Link, “I was disqualified,” as if that explained anything.

“What for?”

“I tripped my opponent,” he said, “which is against the rules, I guess.”

“You _guess_?”

“I don’t know why I did it. I forgot where I was… I guess.”

He sure was doing a _lot_ of guessing.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You seem… distracted.”

“I’m fine,” he said, too quickly for Zelda’s liking. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well.”

_That_ Zelda could more than understand, “Oh… I know what you mean. I haven’t been sleeping very well either.”

Each night had been plagued with nightmares. It was no wonder it’d be the same for Link. As a child, the princess’s bad dreams had been vague, things she now recognized as premonitions but had been unable to decipher at the time. They had left her shaken, confused, but each time she had woken up, safe in her bedroom, with her father or an attendant close enough to comfort her. The dreams were different now. She dreamed of her father being swallowed up by malice, of Urbosa’s lifeless body on the floor of Vah Nabors, of holding Link as he bled out. When she woke up, she was safe, and the nightmare was still over. But it had _happened_.

“You’ve at least been _trying_ to sleep, haven’t you?” she asked. “I know you didn’t, that night we stayed outside.”

Link turned his eyes downward. _Busted_.

“ _That_ was on purpose,” he admitted. “I _did_ try last night, I just… couldn’t.”

Typical. If Link wouldn’t take care of himself through his own volition, she’d have to find a way to make him. He’d already done _more_ than enough for her sake.

“We’re doing shifts when we’re on the road from now on. I sleep eight hours, you sleep eight hours, we travel for the remaining eight,” Zelda declared in a tone that no room for argument.

Link, in his newfound defiance, argued anyway, “It’s my job to protect you. _I’m_ not sleeping unless _you’re_ inside four solid walls and a locked door.”

Zelda huffed, frustrated, “Link, you don’t _have_ a job. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m hardly a princess anymore, I don’t have any authority. There’s nothing keeping you in my service, I’m not even _paying_ you.”

Link snapped, “What does _that_ matter? You think I did all this for some stupid _rupees_?”

Zelda flinched. He’d _never_ taken that tone of voice with her before. Her own voice lost its authority. “No, I d—that wasn’t what I meant to imply,” she stammered. “I just don’t want you to feel…”

_As if I’m taking advantage of you._

_I don’t want you to begin to resent me._

“…stuck,” she sighed. “If you want something else, for yourself, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend all your time defending me instead.”

Link looked at her for a long moment. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, finally. Then he took another bite of his skewer, and that was that.

Zelda had a hard time enjoying the rest of the festival. The way Link followed her quietly, walking behind her rather than _with_ her, was familiar in all the wrong ways. It was reminiscent of their first trip to Goron City together, when the princess had been so distressed by his silence, so concerned with what horrible things he could be thinking about her, that she’d made herself weary. Now, his silence distressed her for different reasons. Whatever he was thinking about was causing him a great deal of trouble. Yet, he wouldn’t share his worries with her.

It had been her hope that they had made it past this. The thought of having to start from square one again was frustrating… but it wasn’t Link’s fault. He’d said he remembered her, but that didn’t mean he remembered _everything_. It would have been impossible to leave him a clue to every moment they’d spent together—he’d been in her constant presence for nearly a _year_ before the Calamity hit. It was unfair to him for Zelda to expect that they could pick up from where they left off. His memories were still fractured. His history, his experiences, were all different than they had been one-hundred years prior. _He_ was different than he’d been one-hundred years prior. But she loved him just the same.

No matter how much effort it took to get him to open up to her again, it would be worth it.

 

***

Footsteps on the roof woke the princess in the middle of the night. She sat up in bed and listened for a moment. It wasn’t long before they stopped, and Zelda almost went back to sleep thinking she’d simply dreamed them. But then the house was _too_ quiet. The night before Link had been almost noisy. She could hear him tossing and turning at the foot of the stairs for half the night, mumbling in his sleep or snoring in between. The princess slipped out of bed, old floorboards creaking under her feet as she went downstairs. Sure enough, the futon at the bottom of the steps was empty, and his boots were missing from their place by the door. She sighed, stuffing her feet into her own boots to go out and look for him.

She found him on the roof, leaning back on his right hand with his knees bent, gazing out to the west. He didn’t even seem to notice she there.

“Link? What are you doing up there?” she asked.

He jumped, clearly having been lost in his own thoughts. He met her eyes only for a moment before he turned away.

That was fine. If he wasn’t going to come down, Zelda would just have to come _up_. She walked to the edge of the roof where it was lowest, gripped the ledge, and tried to hoist herself up, but it proved more difficult than she expected to get her arms under her. Link watched her scramble against the side of the house. Just as Zelda was thinking he might actually just let her hang there, he sighed, got up, and offered a hand to help her onto the roof. A true gentleman, in spite of himself.

“Thank you,” she shivered, sitting down next to him. “It’s _freezing_ up here. Why don’t you come inside?”

Link said nothing for a long moment. A cold wind blew down from Mount Lanayru to the north. Zelda wrapped the borrowed robes around herself tight. If Link even noticed the chill, it didn’t seem to affect him. “Sorry for ruining your birthday, Princess,” he said quietly.

Zelda almost laughed. “Link, _please,_ it was hardly the worst I’ve ever had,” she said.

Link chuckled darkly, but otherwise offered no reply. All this time he hadn’t looked at her, his sharp eyes unfocused, gazing off beyond the hills in the distance. Something else was bothering him.

“What were you going to ask me this morning? Before Symin interrupted us,” she asked.

His posture stiffened and he drew his knees up closer to his chest. It was only then that Zelda noticed what was in his left hand.

It was a doll, _the_ doll, the same one Cottla had pointed out hanging from his hip back in Kakariko Village. He held it low in his lap, as if he were trying to conceal it, but up-close Zelda could make out more details than she’d been able to before. Her dress was faded, a pale pink that must have once been quite vibrant. The paint of her face chipped in several places. She had blonde hair, curled into ringlets at the sides of her face, but this, too, was faded and dirty. It was as if the poor thing had been left outside to brave the elements for a hundred…

_Oh_.

“She’s pretty,” Zelda tried to say as casually as possible. “She reminds me of some of the dolls I had when I was small, actually. I think my mother and father commissioned a toy maker in Castle Town to make them for me. I wonder if she’s one of his.”

Link drew his knees up until they touched his chest, as if hiding the doll could make the princess forget she’d ever seen it. His expression tensed, lips pulled into a tight frown, and yet he stayed stubbornly silent. Zelda pressed.

“Where did you find her?”

He refused to look her in the eye as he answered, “In some rubble. In Castle Town.”

A few things clicked into place, then. He was being defensive, stubbornly silent, concealing any evidence of his thoughts and feelings… like the Link that Zelda used to know; the Link that was afraid, bearing his burdens silently so as not to impart them onto others. But Zelda knew better now. She knew about the deadly currents that raged under those calm waters. _Something_ about that doll had spoken to Link. She had caused him to feel something, something so powerful that he couldn’t help but take her with him. And there could only be one reason why.

“Link… did you recognize her?” Zelda asked, as gently as she could manage. “Is that why you took her with you? Do you know who she used t—"

“I was thinking about what you said,” he said suddenly, voice wavering. Zelda did not miss how he moved to slip the doll out of his lap and back into his pouch. “About not wanting me to feel ‘stuck’… is that why you want me to teach you how to fight? So you don’t need me to defend you?”

Zelda blinked, “Not… exactly.”

A _complete_ subject change. She’d been right, then. He was hurting. He had remembered something, someone, other than herself and the Champions. Someone he had lost. But if he was so unwilling to talk about it, Zelda couldn’t force him to. Not just to satisfy her own curiosity.

“Then… why exactly?” he asked.  

Zelda sighed. Any conversation was better than none at all. “Honestly, it’s because I’m tired of feeling _useless_ ,” she said. “I’ve only ever done _one_ thing right in my entire life, and it’s not that I don’t trust or _want_ you to protect me, Link, I _do,_ but…”

“…but?”

Zelda looked at him then, the scars on his face, his tired eyes, and said, “I never want to hold your dead body in my arms again.”

Link finally, _finally_ , looked her in the eyes then, his own wide as saucers, “…you don’t trust me to protect myself.”

It was Zelda’s turn to not say anything. He didn’t need her to tell him as much to know that he’d gotten it right. It seemed he could read her so easily.

Another long moment of contemplative silence passed between them. The Sheikah Tower nearest to town dominated the landscape, a bright blue pillar of light among the dark hills. Sitting with Link like this, watching the countryside under a blanket of stars, reminded her of a time before the Calamity, in the observation room at the castle. She hadn’t left him a memory of that place on purpose. She wondered if he’d managed to remember anyway.

If he had… surely, he would have said something.

“Do you want to start your first lesson tomorrow, then?” he asked. He extended his right arm to point towards the tower, “There’s a little horseback riding track in the valley of those hills there. We passed it on our way into town, but it’s kind of easy to miss with the condition it’s in. There are still some old targets set up, though. We could practice shooting.”

Zelda smiled softly, “I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I am SHOOK..... like, they really just dropped a trailer for the sequel at E3. I was watching it while I was at work and I literally almost knocked down my cubicle wall. I gotta go edit some of the later chapter's I've already written to take out mentions of Zelda's long hair cuz you KNOW I gotta implement that new haircut in here at some point... I am literally still losing my shit it's been like 4 days I'm so fucking excited.


End file.
